


with a cherry on top

by zimtlein



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous Relationships, Character Study, F/M, Friendship/Love, Post-Episode: s02 Queen Wasp (Queen's Battle Part 2), Self-Reflection, Self-Worth Issues, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28487661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimtlein/pseuds/zimtlein
Summary: After having been turned into Queen Wasp and losing her Miraculous, Chloé is clearly crushed. Chat Noir pays her a visit to make sure she is all right.He isn’t quite sure why he keeps coming back afterwards.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Chloé Bourgeois, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Chloé Bourgeois, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 56
Kudos: 70
Collections: Completed





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set after the s2 episode "Queen Wasp" (not the finale! Sorry for the confusion before). It will be mentioned in the first chapter, but to avoid any confusion: in this AU, Marinette tried to visit Chloé, but wasn't successful in talking to her, resulting in Chloé and her mother never having their "reconciliation".

If there’s one thing Chat Noir knows, then the feeling of loneliness.

Late evening, the sun setting. From a bit of a distance, Chat watches her, not quite finding the courage to come closer. He has known her for far too long not to care. And after all, there’s one thing that always connected them, always made him see behind her façade of meanness and scorn. If he could, he would have visited her as Adrien. But there’s no way Nathalie would have let him go, not on such a late hour, and so, he takes a deep breath and leaps over the last roof separating them, coming to a soundless halt on the railing behind her.

“Good evening, queen.”

A shriek before Chloé sharply turns around. Another shriek as she points an accusing finger at him. “You! What are you doing here?” She adjusts her sunglasses and glares at him as she crosses her arms, regaining all her composure. “I got it, okay? I shouldn’t have listened to Hawk Moth, it was a mistake to let the Miraculous fall into my hands, yadda yadda. I don’t need to be told twice, you mangy cat. Dupain-Cheng was here too, being all goody two-shoes on me. If I can slam the door shut on her, I can do it on you too, Chat Dumb.”

Chat Noir lifts an eyebrow. Leave it to Chloé alone to insult him before even exchanging as much as two sentences with him.

“Actually, I wanted to check up on you,” he says, tone carefully neutral.

“I don’t need to be checked up on by you of all people.”

“Wow. Not a huge fan of moi, I take it?”

She sneers at him, tossing her hair back as she turns away. “Does a sidekick who does nothing at all even deserve fans? If you can’t figure it out yourself, the answer is no.”

She’s different when she’s with Adrien. Less infuriating, for sure. Still, he sighs as he jumps off the railing, leaning against it instead. Knowing who she really is, it isn’t hard to see through her constructed walls, too. “I take it your mom didn’t even talk to you, huh?”

“Is that any of your business?”

“I get it, you know.”

“Who even allowed you to be up here? I should let you be kicked off this roof right this instant! This is just ridiculous!”

“I can’t really talk about it much, but my father isn’t exactly the best dad around, you see.”

“Oh, boohoo.” She whirls around to him again, coming just a step closer with her face twisted into fury. “What do you want, Chat Faux Pas? Do I look like I need to hear about your katzenjammer for a whole evening? Need your blankie too, maybe? Looking as pathetic as you do, maybe you really would need a good look in the mirror, now that I think about it! Yes, that pitiful face staring back at you is you, loser! Oh, wow, can’t believe it? Maybe you should go talk to someone about your daddy issues, huh? Aw, can’t afford a therapist? Yeah, you sure look like it, you measly excuse for a superhero!”

Her breathing has quickened. Her cheeks have gone red, visible even underneath all her rouge. Chat keeps looking at her, lazily swinging his leathery faux tail in one hand, the other on the cold railing. When she keeps quiet for seconds on end, he quirks an eyebrow. “Are you done?”

“No, I’m actually not!” she barks out. “Because you’re still standing here, and your ugly visage alone is enough to make me want to barf! Feeling so smug, do you? Can’t even fight back, like the pathetic dumb cat that you are! What are you going to do, stare at me all day?” Her voice starts to tremble, eyes growing watery. “You don’t even say anything! Just – just get lost, Chat Dumb! I don’t need you here, and I don’t need to …” She hiccups, quickly turning away from him again until her back is to him. “I don’t need anyone. Not my mom. Not Ladybug. And not you.”

There it is. The first little crack. It hurts to see her like this, and Chat lets go of the leather, instead smiling softly at her. “I know you don’t. Because you’re exceptional.”

“Don’t make fun of me!” she snaps, but doesn’t turn around.

“I’m not making fun of you.”

“I just don’t get it! I don’t …” The first sob. It breaks his heart. “She’s my mother! She is supposed to love me best! She is supposed to do anything for me! She isn’t supposed to take that ugly baker girl with her! That stupid Dupain-Cheng! Who does she think she is? Who does she …” Another sob, and she presses her hands against her face. “Thinking she is so smart, and so creative, she is nothing, she is absolutely nothing! A lowly peasant! An embarrassment, that’s what she is!”

“Marinette is going to stay in Paris, I’ve heard.”

“I don’t care!” Chloé shrieks, slamming her hands against the railing. “I don’t give a crap about her! She could go to the North Pole for all I care!”

“And your mother is staying here, too. She posted it on her Instagram account.”

At that, Chloé stills. “So?”

Good question. Her shoulders are still shaking, but she has turned her face away from him. There’s only her delicate form illuminated by artificial lights. It’s dark around them. Without a constant sneer hiding anything from him, Chloé appears small and fragile. A lump builds in Chat’s throat, but he doesn’t dare come closer.

She sobs again. And Chat’s heart breaks for good.

He finally moves, laying a hand on her shoulder. She shakes it off immediately, her voice hard and icy when she speaks again. “Get lost.”

“Chloé –”

“I said. Get. Lost!” She whirls her head around to him, tears having smudged her mascara, leaving black streaks on her skin. “What are you still doing her? Go! Leave me alone! No one ever asked you to be here!”

“I just wanted to –”

“I couldn’t care less what you wanted! Leave!”

He swallows. Takes a step back. Her fury lies in her fast breaths, in her watery eyes. In the way her whole body shakes with all the sadness he knows well enough. He takes another step back, gleaming eyes tracking his steps, and when his back hits the railing, she stomps towards him.

“Go away.” Brows furrowed, and tears shimmering on her cheeks, and every tiny bit of anger no more than a cracking mask. “Now. Now. Now!”

“I’ll be back,” he promises as he jumps on the railing.

She doesn’t reply, doesn’t fight back, doesn’t protest, and he melts with the night.

It gnaws at him. So much so that even Plagg looks a bit worried as he floats down in front of him, green eyes holding his. “What’s keeping you pouting like that, kiddo? Ladybug and you got into a fight?”

“No,” Adrien sighs. Contemplates. It’s not like Plagg can do much, or help in any way either. Still, Plagg is so much more than only his kwami, and Adrien gives him a tentative smile. “It’s about Chloé.”

“Ah, yes. That brat who abused the Bee Miraculous. Betcha Pollen isn’t even annoyed at all. Never had any sense of self-worth, that poor kwami.”

Adrien wants to protest, but really, it’s no more than the truth. So he sighs instead. “Chloé didn’t mean to be a bad person.”

Plagg stays silent as he floats away, diving directly into his cheese cupboard. The smell of camembert reaches Adrien’s nose. He rolls his eyes as the kwami crams a whole eighth into his mouth, his whiskers trembling as he chews.

“I know,” Adrien tries, “that you disagree. But she is my oldest friend.”

“Doesn’t seem like you do much friend stuff together, as far as I see it.”

Adrien scratches his desk’s surface as if there really was something he could clean off. He bites the inside of his cheek, furrows his brows. Thinks. Remembers times they were close, and tries to remember when it all changed. When he saw her in school, being so different from what she always showed him before? When her constant displays of affection started to seem off to him? He can’t name it. He can’t properly think about it. He still considers them friends, but he never stopped to ask himself what it actually means to be her friend.

“You aren’t wrong,” he therefore states.

“Oh! Would you look at that. Admitting I’m a clever cat for once?”

“For once sounds just right.”

“And back to being a cheeky brat.”

He grins at his kwami, then gives his chair a push to make it turn around itself twice. For a moment, the world blurs, only to come back in full force. He can’t stop thinking about the tears on her cheeks. Chloé rarely cried. She was always the strong one, telling him that her mother in particular couldn’t stand seeing her cry.

Her mother.

He takes a look at his computer screen. Kind, green eyes. His mother always used soft words, held him in a way that spoke of love. He doesn’t know Audrey Bourgeoise well. He only knows the little things Chloé told him when they were younger: how she started wearing certain designers Audrey disapproved of, and how she used to steal snacks from the hotel’s kitchen only so Audrey would reproach her. Only so Audrey would talk to her once in a while. No matter what it was about.

But Chloé never cried.

Just like Adrien had learned not to cry either.

“I visited Chloé,” he confesses meekly, not looking at his kwami. “As Chat Noir.”

“Huh. To do what?”

“To – I don’t know – she looked so sad when we took the Miraculous from her.”

“Well. Not like it’s her own fault for doing something stupid, right?”

“She only tried to impress her mother. That’s it.”

“Doesn’t excuse her actions, kiddo. You wouldn’t use me as means of impressing your father either, would ya?”

“Of course not,” Adrien sighs. “But there’s something I can do, right?”

“Do what? Do something for that bratty rich kid, you mean?”

He glares at Plagg. “For Chloé.”

“What I said.”

“You’re so funny, Plagg.”

“Thank you! And to think people call me insensitive at times.”

Adrien rolls his eyes, but he has to grin nonetheless, and he looks out of the window into the night. Not far away from him, Chloé must be lying in her bed, crying her eyes out. He knows the pain of loneliness, but he can’t understand why she’d push him away. Because Chat is a stranger to her, maybe. Or because she wouldn’t even want Adrien to see the pain in her eyes.

He doesn’t know.

The next day at school, people look at her funnily. People always did. Adrien noticed at least that much. She didn’t make it hard for them either – it’s kind of a miracle Sabrina is still around, staying by Chloé’s side through everything. Maybe that’s the reason, Adrien thinks to himself. Because with Sabrina by her side, the loneliness was harder to see, and eventually, he completely closed his eyes from the truth.

So while the whole class is glaring at Chloé, whispering behind her back, she goes to her seat, chin tipped high and eyes never acknowledging anyone. It’s almost sad. Still, it takes Adrien three attempts to stand up from his seat, ignoring Nino’s curious look glued to his back.

“Hi, Chloé,” he greets her, trying his best smile.

She doesn’t even look at him, arms crossed. “Came to reproach me like the rest of them?”

“Yeah, she doesn’t need another reproach, Agreste!” it comes from next to her, a feeble voice and a pout on Sabrina’s lips.

“N-no. I …” When did it become so hard to talk to her? The way she’s giving even him the cold shoulder definitely doesn’t help, though. “I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine,” Chloé barks back. Her makeup is perfectly done once again, her hair just as neat as always. “Thank you,” she adds a bit more softly, still staring strictly ahead.

“You’re … welcome.”

That’s it. Nothing more from her. Adrien fidgets on the spot, but there’s nothing much he can add to this one-sided conversation. Instead, another voice joins them. Alya, rolling her eyes at Chloé as she passes them by.

“Would you look at that. Not even sunshine can melt the ice queen’s frosty exterior.”

“Shut your mouth, Césaire,” Chloé hisses.

Alya stops on the spot, whirling around to her. “Oh, look at that! Queen Bee directed some words at me, a mere mortal. Or wait, was it Queen Wasp? I always confuse those two. They almost seem like the same person to me. No difference whatsoever, akumatized or not.”

“Hey,” Adrien mumbles, trying to step in. “You’ve been akumatized too, Alya.”

Incredulous eyes land on him. “Really? You are defending Chloé Bourgeois?”

“Well,” Chloé drawls, her hand slamming against the desk as she jumps to her feet, “maybe Adrikins knows whose side to be on. That’s all.”

“I’m on no one’s side, really?” he tries, making himself small under the two girls’ loaded staring.

“He’s just way too nice. Like he always is. Doesn’t mean anything, golden girl, so don’t get your jewelry in a pretty twist.”

“Don’t talk to Chloé like that!” a voice cheeps from behind Chloé again.

“Don’t talk about Adrien like that!” Chloé joins in, voice shrill.

“Don’t – don’t mind me,” Adrien tries, holding his hands up in a hopefully placating gesture. “And please don’t fight, maybe?”

“Oh, it’s not a fight.” Even though Alya seems to be talking to him, she squints her eyes at Chloé. “This is just another example of how sad Chloé must be. No friends whatsoever. How does it feel, huh? Realizing your catastrophic actions do have consequences not even your daddy can save you from?”

Chloé’s eyes sparkle with fury. And this is slowly getting too much. Adrien readies himself to get them out of this overheating situation, but before he can do so, Chloé leans back again, tossing her hair over her shoulder and slumping down onto her seat. “I don’t have time to get mad over a peasant like yourself, Césaire. Stop polluting the air around me and just move on, would you?”

Alya seems ready to bounce, and Adrien quickly puts his hands on her shoulders. “Not worth it,” he whispers to her. It seems to take Alya endlessly long until she isn’t staring daggers at him, and with a little sound, she yanks herself free. Adrien watches her go, feeling utterly helpless.

“She is right, you know,” it sounds next to him.

Two seconds pass until he realizes Chloé talked to him. “What? About what?”

“You don’t have to be that nice to me. Better if you’re not, or they’ll think you actually feel sorry for me.”

His face falls a bit. “Chloé …”

“And I don’t need pity, Adrien. Not even from you.”

He keeps looking at her, the faint “Yes, not even from you!” by her side completely forgotten. Just when did this become so difficult? He knows she isn’t a bad person. He just knows. So why is it so hard to bring that good side of her out?

“Okay. I won’t give you any pity, then.” Carefully, he lets a hand sink onto her shoulder. She startles, but still doesn’t look at him. “But we are still friends. So if there’s anything you ever need …”

“I know,” she mumbles as she shakes off his hand again.

It hurts just a bit.

When he goes back to his seat, he is greeted by Nino’s widened eyes. “Dude. Were you just nice to Chloé? Chloé, who freaking stunned a metro driver to make herself look good? Who risked people’s lives? Who was akumatized and clearly enjoyed it?”

“She didn’t enjoy it,” Adrien mumbles. “She’s just … She’d need a nudge.”

“More than a nudge, dude. A whole damn push, rather.”

Adrien shrugs. “We’ve known each other since we were toddlers. I know she can be nice. She has her moments.”

“Oh, what? Because she shared her cookies with you when you were little?”

Adrien returns Nino’s teasing grin. “Just for your information, she did. More than once.”

“No! Dude. She’s totally salvageable.”

Even though Nino is laughing, Adrien feels a pinch in his chest. His eyes wander to her. Still staring straight ahead, ignoring any nasty look thrown at her. Just like she told him once – sometimes, being silent is the best weapon, and sometimes, being loud is the only defense left.

“She is,” he whispers.

His phone in his hands. It would be easy to text her, and then again, it wouldn’t. The words won’t form in his head. All he thinks about is that one fateful day buried in the back of his head. That day he realized that his mother was – gone.

Just gone.

He cried, and cried, and didn’t understand. Hiding in a corner of the mansion, he called Chloé with shaking hands, asking her when his mother would come back. Because despite everything, her mother always did. Sometimes it took weeks, sometimes months, but she always came back.

He remembers Chloé’s voice back then, shrill and overwhelmed. What does he mean, his mother is gone? What does he mean, when does she come back? How would she know? She doesn’t know his mom that well. Eventually, surely? Maybe? His father says she won’t? Really? Why?

Chloé knew him at his lowest point, even though she couldn’t catch him from the fall. But she was just a kid like he was, and he never expected anything from her. She was just there. It was enough.

But he doesn’t know how to put it all into words. How to draw out that girl who always wanted his best, always strived to help him. He doesn’t even know where this girl went, or if she still exists.

“Suddenly worrying a lot about this Chloé girl,” Plagg notes in front of him.

“I …” He rakes a hand through his hair. “I forgot how bad she really has it.”

“After she was acting like such a brat? How could you.”

Adrien rolls his eyes at the sarcasm. “She didn’t know better.”

“You’re making a lot of excuses for that girl.”

“We’ve been friends for long enough to know that there’s more to her than … than what she usually likes to show.”

“Yeah?” Looking bored out of his mind, Plagg rolls around on the floor, a piece of camembert clutched to his body. “So, whatcha gonna do, kiddo? Polish her into a pretty little diamond?”

“Be there for her,” Adrien mumbles, and when he doesn’t get an immediate answer, he hides his face behind a hand. “I just – I really do care for her.”

“Aw, Romeo. Balancing two girls at once? Dangerous.” Plagg cackles. “Balancing three girls, though? Getting into life-threatening territory there, buddy.”

Cheeks heating up, Adrien sharply looks up again. “I’m not balancing anything.”

“Let’s see. Your ladylove …” Plagg gulps down his cheese. “Your fencing partner …” He chews. “And now your stingy queen. Ha, knew you’d end up as a heartbreaker.”

“I’m not – Chloé is just a friend.”

“Where did I hear that one before,” Plagg mumbles.

“And besides, Kagami and I …” He jumps to his feet, pacing around his room. “Kagami is great. I like her. I really do! But there’s still Ladybug, and she …”

“There we go again.”

“And I can’t get her out of my head! And it isn’t fair, right? Not on Kagami, and not on Ladybug.”

“Yeah,” Plagg drawls. “Then forget about those two girls and focus on your childhood brat.”

Adrien pales. “I told you. Chloé is a friend! A good friend!”

“Humans and your weird fixations,” Plagg sighs. “Whatever, whatever. Do what you want, kiddo.”

But he doesn’t even know what he wants. He doesn’t know how he can help Chloé. He never succeeded in making her a nicer person anyway, but seeing her hurting like this is breaking his heart. So, hand rubbing his neck, Adrien gives a sigh.

“You wouldn’t be mad if I gave her a visit, right?”

“As Chat Noir?” Plagg lazily rolls over the carpet. “I don’t care, really. But, y’know, wouldn’t it be easier as Adrien?”

Yes. No. As Chat Noir, he has the luxury of knowing less. Of seeing a side of her she wouldn’t show him otherwise. But he can’t tell Plagg that much, and instead, he gives a sigh. “Less questions, please?”

“Whatever you say, Romeo.”

Nightly wind hits his cheeks as Chat Noir jumps over rooftops. The closer he comes to the hotel, the faster his heart is beating. He is going into it with no plan at all. Just following his instincts, and his need to help someone he knows has a good side, too. No matter how often she likes to hide it. So when he arrives at her balcony and sees her leaning against it, the same spot she occupied the day prior, he feels his heart beat up to his throat.

“Overlooking your kingdom, queenie?” he asks, trying to keep his voice even and easygoing.

“You again.” This time, Chloé doesn’t even turn around. “Didn’t I tell you to get lost?”

“And I told you I’d come back.” Still, he stays where he is, muscles tensing as he prepares to be chased away once again. Only one word, and he’d leave her be. So when she speaks up again, the sharp words almost make him wince.

“That’s so stupid. It’s way too late, and I left my makeup on just because you dumb cat said you’d visit me. Do you have any idea what that does to my skin? I will have to mess up my evening routine just for you! Don’t you even have the good sense to apologize?”

A grin creeps onto his lips. He jumps down, swinging his leathery tail again, the gesture making him feel less nervous than he is. “I bet you one of my nine lives that an extraordinary girl like yourself only uses vegan quality brands.”

She huffs. “Of course. Daddy only buys the best of the best for me.”

“Then, I’d say your skin is safe.”

“How would you know?” She finally turns around, arms propped on the railing as she stares at him. “What, makeup is your secret hobby, mangy cat?”

“Let’s just say I know my way around the industry.”

“Sure.” She snorts. “Let me guess. You’re a model.”

His heart jumps. He forces on a smile. “Oh my. Getting flirty with me, my queen?”

“Ew,” she sniffs, waving him off. “Not even in your dreams. I’d rather choke on my own tongue than look at you for more than two seconds.”

“Sorry to inform you, but two seconds have passed, and you’re still looking at me.”

She rolls her eyes. “That was an exaggeration. You need me to spell that out to get it, catboy?”

“Please, if you would be so kind.”

“Yeah. Buy yourself a dictionary. If you can afford it, that is.”

He comes to a stop before her. Meters separating them, and he doesn’t dare move closer. It takes time until her glaring stops, and she turns around again. It’s a silent invitation, one he didn’t expect, and Chat comes closer on silent feet, making sure there’s a safe distance between then as he leans over the railing, too. From her hotel, she can overlook so much of Paris that he’s feeling a bit dizzy. The school, his father’s mansion, parks and endless little buildings.

They stay silent for a long while. Chat searches for words, but finds none. As Adrien, he could have comforted her, and he somehow feels stupid for not doing exactly that. Calling her, or visiting her the next day. The quietness is getting to him, but before he can speak, Chloé beats him to it.

“Why? Why did you come back?”

He looks at her. She doesn’t look back at him. Bright hair in pale moonlight. Perfect makeup hiding any flaw. He wonders if she feels just as alien when looking in a mirror and seeing a face, painted over by perfection. Or if that unfamiliarity only hits her when wiping a cotton pad over rosy cheeks.

“Because I promised,” he simply says.

“People promise a lot of things. Doesn’t mean they keep them.”

He doesn’t know what to say. So he stares at the sight before them again.

“My mother promised to take me to New York one day, you know.”

Ah. Her voice weak. Her words soft. He crosses his arms, bedding his chin on them. “Let me guess. She never did?”

A moment of silence. Then she releases a snort. “Just for your information, I didn’t even want to go to New York. Paris is so much better. Who needs New York, anyway? It’s stupid and dumb. And totally filthy. And full of cars that run you over without batting an eye. And taxis that never stop for you. Who needs that?”

“Paris isn’t the cleanest city either.”

“Who asked for your opinion?”

“Not my opinion. That’s a fact.”

“Who asked for your facts?”

He quirks an eyebrow at her, discovering she has been staring at him for a longer time, brows furrowed and lower lip pushed forward. “Got me there, I guess,” he tells her blankly.

Her brows furrow further before she tosses her hair back in one swift motion. “Whatever, catboy. Not like it’s any of your business.”

He keeps watching her. Waiting for the façade to break. Just one little nudge, but he can’t quite get it right. Not yet.

“I was never in New York either,” he tells her.

“Did I ask? No, I didn’t. So why would I care?”

He sighs heavily. “Because that’s how conversations work? You say something, I say something relating to what you said, and so on, and so forth?”

“That’s stupid.”

“Maybe it is.”

Maybe it was all for naught. Maybe Chat Noir isn’t the person to make her feel better after all. He is just about to give up when she surprises him, though.

“I’m a failure, huh?”

She isn’t looking at him. The night is silent and lonely.

“A failure?” he repeats.

She stills. Hands clutching at the railing. Shoulders hunched. “Yes. A failure. Are you hard of hearing? Do those cat ears have any use besides looking dumb?”

“You’re not a failure, Chloé,” Chat whispers, her remarks easily ignored.

“Well, you know.” She lets go of the railing. Gives a laugh, cold as the night itself. “Because here I am, being useless. Utterly useless. With a mom who didn’t spare me even a glance, and without a Miraculous. With no way to prove myself. And with you, some superhero wannabe, trying to talk to me and taking pity on me like an idiot. Trying to _talk_ to me. And I can’t even do that properly without messing up again. I’m a failure. I’m officially a stupid failure.” She takes a deep breath, a hand on her forehead. “With no friends. With people hating me. With my own goddamn mother – my mother –”

“Chloé.” Pain tumbles through his throat as he slides closer. Just the tiniest bit, just enough not to chase her away. “I’m sure you have friends. You have people who stand by your side.”

“You have no idea!” she snaps, turning to him fully. “I have Sabrina, but she’s a puppet, not a friend. That’s it! Maybe some people pity me, but what do I do with pity? It doesn’t help to be pitied. Not by you, not by anyone.”

She doesn’t even mention him. She doesn’t even mention Adrien. But correcting her could have been a mistake he would have never been able to take back, and instead, he holds her eyes. “I don’t pity you.”

“Sure you don’t! You’re here because you like the view, huh? God, utterly pathetic, that’s what you are!”

“I don’t pity you,” he repeats, leaning closer and lowering his voice. “I don’t. Because you are mean, and selfish, and bratty, and you don’t think twice about other people’s feelings. There is nothing about you I could pity.”

She pales, mouth hanging open. It takes her seconds to regain her composure. “You – what – what did you just say, you stupid superhero wannabe? Dare say that again, you –”

“And you’re also,” he grabs her shoulder, “brave, and reckless, and a force to be reckoned with. You’re quick-witted and know your worth. You’re an exceptional girl, Chloé. But you know why others can’t see that?”

Chloé stares at him, and stares, and when she doesn’t answer, he goes on.

“Because all of that – it’s all buried under your mean comments. Under the way you treat people. You don’t let them see what I can see.” It’s an action he can’t control, something he will probably regret, but still. Before he can hold himself back, his finger grazes her cheek. She doesn’t move. “Why? That’s all I’m wondering. Why don’t you want them to see that side of you?”

A long, long moment of silence. His finger still on her cheek. His eyes on hers. And it all ends when she abruptly slaps his hand away, her body turning away from him, coldness taking over again.

“You have no idea who I am. And I don’t remember giving you permission to touch me, did I?” She crosses her arms, still not looking at him. “Because all you are is some alley cat. What, did Ladybug finally kick you out? Saw how worthless you really are?”

His finger is burning with the lingering touch, and he retracts it hastily. Right. He doesn’t know her. _Chat Noir_ doesn’t know her. He gulps down the doubts wanting to cloud his mind. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Of course you shouldn’t have!” She walks away from him with heavy stomps. “Now my contouring is ruined! You know how long I worked on it? Thirty-eight minutes, to be exact! The cheekbones gave me so much trouble I had to do them twice. You have no idea how hard this is!”

“I have a pretty good idea,” he mumbles.

“Ah, yes, I forgot about your non-existent modelling career.” She puts her hands on her hips as she whirls around to him again, a safe distance between them. “Or makeup artist? Oh, tell me, catboy. Just which many hidden talents hide behind that dull face of yours?”

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. “I could show you.”

“Show me what?”

“That I can probably do your makeup better than you.”

She gives a clipped laugh, hiding her mouth with one hand. “You? You, alley cat? Doing my makeup? In your dreams!”

Now he does roll his eyes, eventually. “My dreams are much more pleasant than that.” A little grin plays with his lips. “But I knew you would chicken out.”

“Chicken out,” she repeats, her amusement fading.

“Yep. Afraid to show your makeup-less face before this cat, are you? No worries, most girls only want to look their best in front of me. It’s no wonder.”

Her hand drops down. “I don’t care one bit which state you see me in. You could see me naked, for all I care!”

Chat Noir chokes on his breath. Before he can properly react, Chloé already goes on, wildly flailing her hands.

“No! Not naked! I will not be naked in front of you! Don’t even think about it, don’t you dare! Do not imagine it, I order you! That’s not what I meant!”

He can’t help it. Her panicked expression, her rosy cheeks amplified by her natural blush, her widened eyes – he bursts into loud laughter. And because her expression becomes even more dumfounded, his laughter becomes louder until he has to hold his stomach, doubling over.

“So smooth!” he chuckles. “Didn’t think you’d have it in you, queenie.”

“Shut up!” But his laughter seems to be contagious, and she visibly tries to fight the smile on her lips as she raises a hand to her mouth. “It’s not – don’t even dream of it!”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good! Good.”

Seeing her smile is all he wanted to accomplish. So, giving one last sigh, he straightens his back. “Guess it’s getting late. Was nice talking to you, Chloé.”

“Chat Noir.”

Her hand sinks down. Her blush stays on her cheeks. She keeps looking at him, needing seconds and seconds until she goes on. All the while, he waits for her.

“Thank you.”

Chat smiles. “I can’t believe it. Did my queen just thank me, the lowly alley cat?”

“I know, I know, too good to be true.” She waves him off dismissively, averting her gaze. “Don’t think you’re gonna get that twice.”

He chuckles. “You’re welcome, then.”

He leaves, cold air greeting him as he thinks about that little smile. A genuine one. Something he hasn’t seen from her in so long. It warms his heart, and it makes him smile just the same.


	2. Chapter 2

Even though their conversation from last night has Adrien in high spirits, he is still disappointed when Chloé keeps giving him the cold shoulder. Trying to greet her at school only results in clipped answers (and Sabrina’s accusing staring), and he gives up pretty quickly again. As he sinks back into his seat, he hears Alya’s voice behind him.

“Sunshine, you really have a good soul. But it’s entirely wasted on Chloé.”

“Look.” He sighs. “She definitely has her mean moments.”

“Definitely,” Nino agrees.

“And she definitely can be a bit, uh, unpleasant.”

“Definitely,” Alya agrees.

“But she has a good heart.”

Alya blinks at him, long and hard. “Chloé Bourgeois, the girl who couldn’t even get Miss Bustier a present for her birthday, has a good heart.”

“The girl who spread rumors about Max having to remove a third nipple,” adds Nino.

“The girl who sent Mylène her condolences when she announced she is dating Ivan,” notes Alya.

During Alya’s wonderful statement, another face joins them. Marinette hurries to her seat. Just a second after she sits down, the bell rings, and she leans over her desk to join the conversation. “Oh, are we talking about Chloé? The girl who put gum on my seat the first chance she got?”

“Exactly.” Alya nods at Marinette, then at Adrien. “Exactly!”

“Why?” Eyes set ablaze, Marinette rams her fists against the desk and stares at Adrien. It’s so much that he jumps. “Did she do something to you?”

“No! No.” He smiles at her, trying to calm her down. “I was just talking about, uh, that she has a good heart.”

Marinette blinks at him, long and hard. “Chloé Bourgeois, the girl who caused a false fire alarm and left us all to clean the school, has a good heart.”

Adrien groans as he sinks deeper into his seat. “Don’t put it like that, please?”

“We’re spelling out the truth, Agreste! The truth!” Alya underlines her words with a telling gesture. “The truth that you’re way too nice to see!”

“I’m not that blind,” he returns. “I know she has her really low points. But – she’d just need someone to bring out the best in her.”

“And you want to be that someone, dude?” Nino asks. “That’s a lot even for you. Sure you’re up for that challenge?”

“Imagine you’d have to date her for that.” Gagging, Alya shudders. “Would think twice about that, sunshine.”

“Date?” squeaks Marinette, whole body going stiff. “You’d date her? You’d date Chloé?”

“Girl, it was just hypothetical.”

“No.” Adrien sighs. “She’s just a friend. There must be something else I can do, right?”

“Right!” Marinette blurts. “Because dating her? No! Gosh, please. You’re too wonderful for that! Uh, I mean, too amazing. No, too precious. Ugh, no, you’re –”

“We don’t want you to be broken by Queen C,” Alya chimes in. Next to her, Marinette turns deeply red. “You really are way too precious for that.”

At that, Adrien laughs. “Chloé wouldn’t _break_ me.”

“Sure is breaking everyone else’s will to be near her,” Nino coughs.

Adrien can’t help it. He looks at Chloé. A frown on her face. She can look pretty when not constantly caught in her own image of aloofness. She is prettiest when her voice gets smaller, and when she casts her eyes down, and when her intimidating aura drops. If even just for some moments.

It’s a shame she doesn’t let others see that much.

After science classes end, Adrien comes to a decision. Under the watchful eyes of his friends, he stands up, catching Chloé before she can leave the classroom. Some looks are sent at him as their classmates pass them by. But honestly, he has lived with weird looks since the day he got introduced to the fashion industry, and it’s not hard to ignore every single one of them. Instead, he gives Chloé his best smile, and she narrows her eyes at him.

“Hi, Chloé. I was just wondering –”

“Who sent you?” She rolls her eyes as she looks over his shoulder. “Don’t tell me it was Dupain-Cheng? Tell her I don’t care about her opinion. At. All.”

“Uh – what?” Automatically, Adrien looks over his shoulder too, catching sight of Marinette hiding her face behind a book as she peeks at them inconspicuously. It would be almost funny if he didn’t have another goal right now. “No. Nobody sent me. I wanted to ask you –”

“Or was it Césaire? Her obsession is flattering. No, scratch that, her obsession is totally creepy. Tell her to buzz off.”

“No, Chloé, I –”

“Or, what? Finally felt like reproaching me, too? Thank you, Adrien. Don’t need it. Dismissed.”

That’s enough. He grabs her shoulders to make her listen, eyes boring into hers. “No, Chloé. I wanted to ask you if you could help me with homework. This afternoon.”

She stills for some long moments, eyes widening. There she is – that Chloé he remembers, every last façade crumbling from her face. But it’s over too soon, and her voice carries wariness as she answers. “Help you? With homework? You know I don’t _do_ homework.”

“Y-yes!” Sabrina’s voice echoes next to them. “And, and just for your information – I will be her personal assistant this afternoon! I mean, her dedicated friend!”

Adrien opens his mouth to protest, but Chloé interrupts him in an instant. “Adrikins, I appreciate it and stuff. But like I said. I do not need your pity, and your looking at me like some overgrown baby isn’t helping things. So, bye, handsome.” She tosses her hair back as she passes him by, steps forceful and devoid of any kind of hesitation, and it takes Adrien endlessly long to turn back to his desk, seeing three pairs of eyes collectively feeling sorry for him.

“You tried.” Alya shrugs and leaves the classroom.

“Bro, just saying, but this is gonna be a ride.” Nino laughs as he follows Alya.

Marinette is the only one left. He sighs as he packs his bag, hearing her hesitant voice behind him. “I, uh, you’re a hot person – a – no, a good person! Very good. But, um, don’t you think, is – is Chloé worth that much trouble, really?”

He has to crack a smile at her stumbling words, and when he straightens his back again, Marinette is looking at him, a slight shimmer of concern on her face.

“People can change, you know.”

“She never changed, though.” Next to each other, they leave the science room. “She’s always been like this. Ever since we met for the first time.”

He stays silent for a second, looking at the girl next to him. “She wasn’t nice to you.”

A fragile laugh. “Wasn’t nice? That’s an understatement. She used to scribble swear words into my books when I wasn’t looking. With permanent marker!”

“Oh, Chloé,” he sighs, rubbing his forehead.

“See. I’m just – I’m worried you’re in over your head. She’s a piece of work, but just because you were friends doesn’t mean you have to shoulder it all. You don’t have any obligation to help her.”

A small smile steals itself onto Adrien’s lips. “Are.”

“Huh?”

“We are friends.”

Marinette looks at him, brows slightly drawn together. “My point still stands.”

“You know,” he mumbles. “I’m pretty sure she could even be nice to you if she tried.”

She lets out a surprised laugh. “Yeah, right. The earth would explode before Chloé is voluntarily nice to me.”

“I mean, it would be a great goal. Make Chloé be nice to you.”

“You can’t change people that fundamentally.”

“Marinette, I know her.” His smile lessens just a tiny bit. “I know she is capable of being a good person. Believe me.”

Marinette blinks at him. “You really are perfect, huh?” She jolts. “I mean, amazing. I mean, adorable. I mean, agh, I mean, good, a good person too, ha! Good, well, all is well, see ya, Antien. Amien. Adrien.” Whole face turning red, Marinette quickly scampers away from him, almost running against the doorframe before disappearing into their classroom.

Still trying to digest her words, Adrien looks after her. He almost laughs. If Chloé was like Marinette, sweet and clumsy, it would be easy. Then again, she wouldn’t need any saving at all if that was the case.

His friends are right. This probably won’t be easy.

“You’re being antsy.”

Chat Noir blinks at her, trying his best to stand still. “Am I?”

“Yes.” Ladybug’s eyes, piercing as ever, watch him. “I’m glad it didn’t distract you during our battle, but Chat … Are you all right?”

“More than all right. I’m _purr_ fect.” He demonstrates that much with a wide grin, the early evening’s sun shining down on them. Around them, people start awakening from their akuma-induced daze, confused eyes darting around. “Worrying about me, are you, bugaboo?”

She rolls her eyes at the nickname, stepping back as he leans closer. “Of course I’m worrying about you.” A little adorable pout on her lips as she averts her gaze, as she crosses her arms. “You’re my partner, right? I would always worry about you.”

His heart flutters. He will never get enough of seeing her like this, bluebell eyes just barely grazing his face as a shimmer of pink dusts her cheeks. Chat is just about to lean even closer when a set of beeps wrenches them out of the situation.

“Well, my lady,” he says. “Guess we’ll have to continue this conversation some other time.”

“Yeah. True.” She steps back, giving him one last smile. “After all, I gotta prepare for my date. See you around, kitty.”

The whole world stops for a second. He stares after her, jaw dropping as her suit disappears in the distance. “You have a _what_?” he asks the thin air in front of him, heart doubling in speed.

A date?

A date with whom? She never mentioned a date before. Not once.

But before he can jump after her, another urgent beep effectively dictates his next actions.

His worst nightmare is coming true. Ladybug has a date. Ladybug has a date with someone who isn’t _him_. He can’t think as he lands in a random alley, making sure no one else is next to him as he detransforms. A tired Plagg greets him, floating down into his open palm.

“Who does she have a date with?” he blurts into his kwami’s face.

Dramatically, Plagg sighs. “Cheese … I am – my whole life is flashing before me, and all I need is cheese …”

“It’s the first time she said that!” Adrien hastily draws a piece of camembert from his pocket. “Was she joking? She had to be joking, right?”

“Kiddo,” Plagg grumbles around his bites of camembert. “I can only catch so much while you’re transformed. No idea what ya talking about.”

“She,” Adrien whispers heavily, “is going on a date.”

“Your ladylove?”

“Yes.”

“With you?”

“No!” Adrien whines. “That’s just it! Who is it? Who is she going on a date with?” He jumps to his feet, starts pacing around with his kwami still in his hands. “Do I know him? How long have they known each other? I bet you he doesn’t love her like I do. I’ll fight him. For her love. In the name of love.”

“Boy,” Plagg sighs. “And I thought my medieval Chat Noir had it bad. Know what his hobby was? Tournaments to win maidens’ hearts.”

“How often did he win?”

“Not once.”

Adrien wails, shaking his head. “I don’t get it! When did it happen? She never mentioned anyone!”

“Well, she is not obligated to do so, is she?”

“No, but …” He comes to a stop. “No. But what does that mean for us?”

“Relax, Romeo. It’s only a date. Not a wedding.”

He feels himself pale. “What if he proposes? Tonight?”

“Oh, jeez.”

“I’ll have to become a wedding crasher. I don’t even know how to be one. Do you think it’s difficult?”

“Well, Casanova. She always told you there was a boy she loved.”

She did. She always did. But so soon? He thought the hard truth would lie years away. Years and years, and in that time, he would have wooed her already. Ladybug, girl of his dreams. Ladybug, perfection in flesh. Ladybug, with her little smiles and her beautiful eyes and her soft voice and he feels like crying as he sinks back to the ground, sight becoming blurry.

“What am I supposed to do now?”

Plagg floats in front of him, wildly flailing his little paw-like arms. “Listen, kiddo, not like you can do anything. Was bound to happen sooner or later, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe,” he whispers. “I just …”

He just what? He doesn’t even know.

He transforms again. Maybe just so he doesn’t have to look into Plagg’s worried eyes. The sun is setting as he leaps onto one of the roofs. He kind of hopes it was all just a joke. That Ladybug will stand on one of the rooftops, watching him, calling out to him how stupid he must be for believing such a blatant lie.

Then again, nobody can tell her she isn’t allowed to be happy.

Even if it’s not with him.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Chat Noir flees. Feet barely touching rooftops. For a moment, he wonders where he is going, but it doesn’t take him long to find the hotel’s grand balcony, a single figure leaning against the railing.

His heart is aching. His whole head becomes a mess. A thump sounds when he lands on the railing. This time, Chloé turns around to him. Her face isn’t devoid of any mask; she stands before him in full makeup. Of course. It shouldn’t hurt like it does.

“You again,” she says.

“Me again,” he confirms.

Seconds pass. He feels his fingers twitch. He feels his stomach churn. He feels Chloé’s eyes on him, her brows furrowing.

“For how annoying you usually are, you’re pretty quiet right now.”

His oldest friend, he thinks. His oldest friend, and it bursts out of him in a steady stream, unstoppable until it lies before him, the truth he never wanted to acknowledge.

“She is going on a date. Chloé, on a date. Not with me. With someone else. What do I do? She is going on a date! She never told me about a date. She never mentioned it. She didn’t mention it once! Why did she have to mention it now? What do I do?” He jumps down, starting to pace back and forth. “What if that guy sweeps her off her feet? What if I can never convince her that we’re meant for each other? What if –”

“Okay!” Chloé calls. He didn’t even notice how close she came until her hand is pressing against his mouth, effectively shutting him up. “Your mewing is really getting on my nerves, so please just shut up! I have no freaking clue what you’re talking about, and frankly, why should I even care?”

He says something against her palm. It comes out as a muffled sound. Eventually, she draws her hand back, wiping it on her jeans with an expression of disgust.

“Ladybug,” Chat Noir explains.

“Ladybug,” she repeats. “Date?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Chloé nods. “Oh.” Chloé keeps nodding. “Wait, what? With whom?”

“Exactly!”

“A date?” she repeats. “And she didn’t even ask me on a date? That’s just ridiculous!”

“I know, right?” He pauses. “Hey, no. No, she should have – I should have –”

“Oh, what, you think she would have wanted to go on a date with _you_?” A mocking laugh as she tosses back her hair. “Yeah, right.”

Chat Noir rolls his eyes. “Yes, I get it. I’m being stupid for hoping someone as perfect as Ladybug would ever want to be with me.”

“Yeah, well, look at you. Of course you’re stupid.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Wow. Thank you.” With a snort, he turns away. “Didn’t come hear to be even further stomped into the ground. Really classy.”

“What, did you come here to get some pity, mangy cat? In that case, give me a second.” She takes two deep breaths, then rolls her eyes. “Oh, boohoo, how dare she have a love life that doesn’t involve you? Gosh, and calling me the selfish one.”

“Exactly!” He blinks. “Hey, wait, no.”

“Get over yourself, Chat Dumb. She doesn’t want to date you? Well, then it’s time to move on.”

Something stirs in him. He can’t help but glare at her. “That’s rich, coming from a person who never once in her life loved anyone but herself.”

She doesn’t back away. Quite the opposite. His tone makes her glare back with the same fire he feels in his chest. “At least one of us knows the meaning of self-worth, then, you pathetic idiot. Not like the whole of Paris saw you panting after a girl that rejected you over, and over, and over again. Any chance she got. What, are you some masochist or something?”

“Begging for your mommy’s love,” he hisses, “and talking about self-worth? Wow, I’m impressed. Thank you for your incredible advice, I guess.”

She opens her mouth. Closes it again. Her face twists into despair, then anger. And all air is knocked out of Chat’s lungs. He didn’t mean to say that. He didn’t mean to make her look at him like that. He wants to apologize, but the words get stuck on his tongue as she jabs a finger against his chest.

“Yes. I, the queen of selfishness and atrocity, am telling you to get over yourself. Right now, you’re no more than a pathetic little boy crying because his favorite toy has been taken away. _Do_ something. Talk less and do something, mangy cat.” Her blue eyes sparkle with unhidden ire. “Because frankly, with how utterly pathetic you’re being, you’re not even worth my time.”

“You have no idea,” he breathes, eyes stinging. “You have no idea what it is like to love someone that desperately.”

Chloé’s hand sinks down. Her face is a mask of coldness, and yet her voice is shaking the slightest bit. “I have every idea. At least you have the choice to turn away. I don’t.”

It takes him a moment to get it. Ladybug means so much to him. All the love he feels for her – it’s enough to make his heart burst.

It’s nothing compared to the hole he desperately tries to fill. That ugly, consuming hole his mother left on a cold January evening.

He wants to cry. It’s so ridiculous, and he wants to cry. He wants her to be Ladybug. Sweet Ladybug, who would wrap her arms around him, taking away all the pain. But she isn’t. She is Chloé. Chloé, with her thousand flaws and thousand fears, and suddenly he doesn’t know how much more he can take.

He stumbles back. He turns away. He tries not to cry.

And Chloé walks away. Leaving him alone in coldness as she returns to her room, not one word of goodbye on her lips, her steps getting quieter and quieter until they have disappeared for good.

Chat Noir can’t move. He can only stare up at the sky. No stars. Paris never shows stars. Stars are reserved for beautiful nights, for cities that don’t greedily swallow any light they can take. So much was taken from him. Again, and again, slipping through his fingers.

Steps again. He doesn’t look down. A clattering sound. He has sunk to the cold tiles beneath him, and he hears some more clattering until Chloé’s voice sounds again.

“No even a thank-you? You really are an excuse for a superhero.”

He finally manages to turn his head, tired eyes landing on what Chloé brought him. A plate filled with chocolate cookies. A cup of something steaming in front of him. Hesitantly, he wraps his fingers around it and brings it closer to his face. The smell of hot chocolate hits him.

The first time he visited her after that one fateful January day, she bickered with her butler until he brought her two cups of steaming hot chocolate and a plate of cookies.

He remembers too well.

He swallows. Can’t look at her face. “Thank you.”

“There! Catboy has some manners. You’re welcome.” As if their senseless back-and-forth from before never happened, she sips at her own drink, gingerly taking one of the cookies from the plate. “I’d get freshly baked cookies any time of the day. Looking at you, I can only imagine how much you’d wish for the same luxury, Chat Faux Pas.”

He smiles weakly. “Money can buy anything, huh?”

“Now don’t get all sappy. ‘Anything but love’, I get it, Chat Sad.”

That does make him snort over his hot chocolate. “Your terms of endearment really make my heart flutter, my queen.”

“I would hope so. Maybe take some inspiration from me. Yours don’t seem to change up a lot.”

He blinks at her. “Queen C.”

Waving him off, Chloé takes another bite of her cookie. “Césaire already took that one. Try again.”

A grin grows on his face. “Aw, honey, you’re really underestimating me.”

“Ew!”

“You asked for it, bee’s knees.”

“Really, alley cat?”

“You had more creative ones too, you know.”

Chloé snorts. She keeps eating, and Chat has to avert his gaze, looking at his hot chocolate again.

“I was offered an interview,” she states. Doesn’t go on. He looks at her quizzically, and when she keeps staring at the cookie in her hand, he bites.

“What kind of interview?”

“What, are there different kinds of interviews all of a sudden? Just an interview, Chat Dumb.”

He quirks an eyebrow. She huffs.

“To …” She shrugs. “To … formally apologize. For … you know. Stuff. That Happened. Stuff that happened without my control.”

“Without your control.”

“Yes!” She sinks into herself, not looking him in the eye. “And, uh, for that one thing I might have been, maybe, perhaps, possibly be also responsible for. A bit. A tiny bit.”

He bites down half of his cookie at once, grinning at her. “And you’ll accept.”

“I never said that.”

“But I know you will.”

Huffing, she sends him a glare. “How would you know, Chat Shrink?”

“Because I believe in you.”

They both pause. A bit embarrassed, Chat brings a hand to his neck. That was too much, maybe. Way too much. Before he can apologize, though, Chloé beats him to it.

“Ew. Are you always that cheesy? Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.”

But her voice carries the same slight awkwardness he is feeling, and he clears his throat. Eyes meeting for a short second. She isn’t blushing, but she doesn’t withstand his look for too long, casting her eyes down again. For an endless while, he searches for words, and in the end, he arrives nowhere.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” he brings out instead.

“Sorry for what? Existing in general? Don’t know if I can forgive that much.” Her voice is back to being fierce and hard, and it would be almost relieving if it didn’t cause him to roll his eyes.

“No. For saying – for not – I know you don’t have it easy with your mother.”

Maybe it was too blunt. Maybe it was just right. Chloé bends her knees, drawing them closer to her body as she keeps nibbling on a cookie. Her makeup is perfect like it always is. Enough to hide anything from him he shouldn’t see.

“She is ignoring me,” she says softly.

For a moment, he doesn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need you to be sorry.”

“What do you want me to say then?”

She draws her knees even closer. “I don’t know. Anything. Nothing. I don’t care.”

The urge becomes overwhelming. To reach out for her. To take her into his arms. Adrien could. But she doesn’t know Chat Noir. There’s only a plate of cookies between them, and her heavy eyes, and the feeling of a kindred spirit, sharing a pain so deep it cuts into every fiber.

“I think she wishes I was never born.”

“Chloé …”

“It’s not like I care. It’s not like it matters.” She buries her face on her knees. “People see me. Right? People notice me. I do exist. She’ll have to deal with it. They’ll all have to deal with it. All of you.”

He doesn’t know what to say.

“I never asked to be her daughter. I never asked to be born. How can she blame me, then? It’s unfair, so utterly unfair, and I just …”

He can’t do it.

“She doesn’t even want me gone. She’ll just _pretend_ I’m gone. That’s her solution. Just wish me out of this world, and –”

The plate clatters when he dives forward, wrapping his arms around her. For a moment, she seems to resist, a gasp dying on her lips. But then, her body goes slack in his arms, and long nails dig into his suit, and her body curls against his, a sob being wrenched from her throat.

“I’m sorry,” she rasps. “I’m so sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he mumbles into her hair, holding her close.

“I didn’t want to …” Her words get lost in her sobs, and she presses herself closer.

Their hot chocolate is forgotten, turning colder the longer the night lives on, and Chat keeps rubbing circles over her back, feeling her body tremble in his arms, feeling a fragile heart breaking over a love that should be more meaningful than anything. A love he, too, craves so much tears build in his eyes.

“So? Excited for the interview?”

Chloé stares at him, looking around in sudden panic. “Interview? Interview? Adrikins, you’re so funny! What interview?”

“Well,” he drawls. “That interview. Regarding your public apology, remember?”

Sabrina, next to them, lifts her eyebrows. Around them, people stop and stare. It’s a sunny, warm day outside, and Adrien almost stumbles over his own feet when Chloé hastily drags him away, a high-pitched laugh on her lips. “Oh, Adrien, you really are a comedian! Apology, you say! Me, apologizing! Ha!” Only when there’s no one in earshot does she let go of him, brows furrowed as she stares. “How do you know?”

“W-what?”

“About that interview. I told no one.”

Oh. Should have thought about that beforehand. Great.

Before she can reach any conclusions she really shouldn’t, Adrien gives a laugh. “My father! My father. He, uh, knows. About the interview. He told me.”

“But –”

“I’m very proud of you, Chloé. For doing that.”

That, on the other hand, makes her jump, her nose turning red. “Proud?” she repeats, high-pitched.

“Yeah. It takes a lot of courage to admit your mistakes and own up to them, too. Not everybody could have done something like that.” He smiles at her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You’re really showing everyone how exceptional you are.”

She stares, and stares, and stares. “I declined.”

He blinks at her. “You did what?”

“I declined. I didn’t want to do the interview.”

He blinks again. His hand slides from her shoulder. For a moment, she seems small, and delicate, and her eyes shimmer with a kind of fear he can’t pin down. Before he can say anything, she speaks up again, voice hard.

“Don’t look at me like that! Or what, did you ever give some stupid interview in front of a whole stupid city, even though you did nothing wrong?”

And to think he was so close. Adrien sighs. “Look, Chloé –”

“And what the hell would it even help? People are dumb anyway. They won’t stop being dumb just because I told then I am, aw, so _sorry_!” Chloé crosses her arms, turning away from him. “Your father’s sources are lousy, utterly lousy!”

Adrien looks after her as she stomps away, a loud sigh falling from his lips. Just when Chloé disappears into the school building, Sabrina trailing shortly behind, he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Man. Looking traumatized already.”

He shoots a weak smile at Nino. “I’m not traumatized.”

“Yet.”

Adrien is almost inclined to agree.

He doesn’t get it. He really doesn’t get it. He can’t concentrate on classes at all, and Nino has to save him three times from Mrs. Mendeleiev sudden questions. Chloé looks as cold and aloof as always. Not at all like the girl crying in his arms last night. It makes Adrien grit his teeth, it makes him want to do something, just _do_ something.

And he will.

So, as soon as the bell announces their lunch break, he jumps up, stopping next to Chloé.

“Do it,” he tells her.

She stares at him, leaning back, not hesitating before giving her clear answer. “No.”

“I know you can.”

“Of course I _can_ –”

“Then do it.”

“Why are you so adamant about me doing that idiotic interview?” she snaps, moving closer to him again, eyebrows furrowed. It reminds him of the tone she uses with Chat Noir, and it makes something stir in his chest.

“Because you are my oldest friend,” he tells her, holding her eyes, “and because I believe in you. I believe that you can be a better person. So prove it.”

She stares at him. Disbelief, a hint of something delicate, and then –

“Didn’t you hear her? She doesn’t want to do it!” Sabrina speaks up behind her, leaning over the desk until she can glare at Adrien.

All he can do is return her look. “Well, yes, but –”

“Oh, Adrikins, I know you can’t help it, with all that secret affection you’re keeping from me!” Her voice loses all its sincerity as Chloé jumps up, wrapping her arms around him. The smell of her perfume is so strong it stings in Adrien’s nose. She presses a kiss to his cheek before he can back away. “Don’t worry! I’m used to people being stupid, so there’s no need for some unnecessary interview.”

He softly tries to push her away. “But you could still –”

“And being concerned about me like that! Aw, my dear Adrien, I know you care for me too much for your own good!” She kisses his cheek again. This is somehow awkward, but before he can free himself, another voice joins them.

“Yo, Chloé. Sorry and stuff, but I gotta ask my bro something, so would you …?”

Chloé stops, apparently staring at Nino who is standing behind them. “You.”

“Me.”

“Whatever. You aren’t even worth my time.” She rolls her eyes before she lets go of Adrien. Then she sends him a wink and blows him a kiss. “See you, Adrikins!”

He stares after her. Of all versions of Chloé he knows, this definitely is the one he can stand the least. With her arrogant smile, and the look she sends him, and the way she waves her hand at something Sabrina says as she follows her.

Of all versions of Chloé he knows, this one seems least like herself.

“Woah, man,” Nino sighs. “Really gotta learn how to say no to unwanted hugging attacks.”

“Yeah,” Adrien mumbles, and then he sighs. “Yeah. You aren’t wrong.”

“Traumatized now?”

“A bit.”

“Told ya.” Nino pats his back. “Enough to give up?”

He wipes the cheek she kissed, pink lipstick sticking to his fingers. He tries not to make a face. “No.”

With a laugh, Nino shakes his head. “Of course.”


	3. Chapter 3

One step. A sharp movement. The memory of Chloé’s face when he told her he’s proud of her. That glimmer of hope. Another step. How easily the truth slipped from her lips – that Ladybug rejected him so often he started to lose count. The absolute nonchalance Chloé said it with. Almost being cruel. A moment of carelessness. A blade that flicks forward. It’s too late to dodge it, too late to do anything; and Adrien grunts when the foil hits him, counting a score.

Kagami stills, drawing her foil back and pulling off her helmet. Black hair shimmers in the light when she shakes it out for a second. “Yet again, something is distracting you.”

“Sorry,” he sighs, freeing himself from the helmet too. His face was growing hot underneath it, and he rakes his hand through his hair. “I guess there is.”

Kagami looks at him. She has her delicate moments, too. But she never looks quite as distraught as Chloé does. And that’s just weird – thinking about Chloé that much.

He’s glad when Kagami speaks up again. “Even the strongest warrior needs a break from time to time.” A tiny smile. “I … borrowed some of my mother’s Japanese chocolate. We could share.”

He almost snickers. “You borrowed it. Impressive.”

“Thank you. It was a challenge, but one I couldn’t resist.”

They make sure not to be seen by Mr. D’Argencourt as they slip away. Kagami sneaks into the girl’s changing room while Adrien retrieves his phone, and after Kagami returns with a whole box of chocolate, they search for an empty corner on the hallway. Far enough away from the gym not to be detected, and close enough to slip back in anytime they want.

“So, what is bothering you?” Kagami asks as she takes a first bite of chocolate. She makes a face. “For how much of a fuss my mother made about this, it just tastes like ordinary chocolate.”

“Maybe it is ordinary chocolate,” Adrien returns, mouth full of sweetness. “Doesn’t mean it isn’t great.”

Kagami shrugs. She shrugs again. Then she takes another piece. “You didn’t answer my initial question.”

He sighs, being glad that with enough chocolate in his mouth, there is no need to answer immediately. Because he isn’t sure how to properly put it into words. Maybe the truth would be best. Easy. Easy, right?

Only that he can hardly tell Kagami about the love of his life going on a date, and him going crazy over it. Because – yeah, why? He cares for Kagami. He cares for her so much, and even though he doesn’t know where exactly those feelings lie, the thought of talking with her about a girl he sees in a romantic context feels absolutely wrong. It does so much so that every word dies on his tongue, and instead, he settles for the easier truth.

“I’m worried about a friend of mine.”

“Do I know them?”

“I don’t think so. Chloé Bourgeois? She is the mayor’s daughter.”

Kagami stays silent for a long moment, her face as blank as ever. It makes Adrien so nervous that he almost exhales soundly when she speaks up again. “I don’t think I know her, no. How long have you been friends for?”

“Oh, wow. For forever.” Nervousness taking over, he takes a look at his phone. “Our parents are friends. They made us have playdates and stuff.”

“Playdates,” Kagami repeats, looking at him as if the syllables feel entirely foreign on her tongue.

“Yes. You know? Putting children together to have them play.”

She stays silent for a long second. “I never played with other children.”

That would almost be horrible if it wasn’t so familiar. “I never played with anyone else than Chloé, so …”

“Ah. So you two are close.”

“Well … Not anymore, I think. Not too much.”

Something flashes through Kagami’s eyes, but he can’t name it, and before he can ponder it further, his phone buzzes. Surprised, Adrien opens the message he got. Nino.

_dude srsly put on the news channel’s livestream like right now like WAAAT_

With hasty fingers, Adrien opens up the livestream, turning his phone to have a better look at it. And the sight alone is so shocking that he holds his breath. That’s Chloé sitting there, looking absolutely uncomfortable. That’s Chloé, her arms crossed and a little pout on her lips.

“That’s her,” he whispers as he brings the phone closer to Kagami.

He stares at the picture before him, turning up the volume. Nadja Chamack’s voice sounds from the background. “… right for taking your Miraculous?”

Chloé seems to sink into herself, shoulders hunched and the corners of her mouth drawn downwards. “It was never _mine_ , per se, so that’s a dumb question in itself.” She pauses. “I mean, yes, they were right to take the Miraculous from me.”

“Well,” Nadja continues. “At least we’ve got that much covered. Do you believe Ladybug and Chat Noir will ever choose you as Queen Bee again?”

Chloé makes herself even smaller. “They can’t.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I announced my identity, and making me Queen Bee again would endanger … It could endanger people dear to me.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“And anyway,” she continues, voice becoming smaller and smaller, “I’m not a good Queen Bee. I was selfish, and I was akumatized, and if Ladybug and Chat Noir have any brain cells left, they wouldn’t be idiotic enough to make me a Miraculous holder ever again.”

Adrien stares. His heart aches. He has seen her that vulnerable, of course he has, but never presented before such an audience. It takes courage to do so. Endless, unbelievable courage. He wishes he could be by her side, showing her just how proud he really is.

It’s the Chloé he knows. It’s the Chloé he wants everyone to know.

Their interview goes on for minutes, Chloé’s posture not changing much, her words small and reluctant, and still, it’s out there. Her apology for doing something she shouldn’t have done. Her acknowledging that she was in the wrong.

He didn’t even notice Kagami leaning against his shoulder until the interview ends, and when he shoots her a look, she leans away again. “You must like her a lot.”

“Huh? I do, but –”

“You’re smiling.”

“Oh.” A creeping feeling tells him to drop the smile, and something about this is a tad embarrassing. Adrien clears his throat. “I – she is my oldest friend, after all.”

Kagami keeps looking at him. “I see.”

For whatever reason, he feels somehow caught, and that’s just stupid. There is nothing to be caught of. So he looks away, rubbing his neck to give himself some grounding. “Maybe we should head back. Or Mr. D’Argencourt will notice we’re gone.”

“I agree.”

Silently, they leave their hiding space.

No akuma attack. No reason to see her. Maybe it’s better that way. Chat Noir wouldn’t have known what to do with himself in front of her. Ask her straight up how her date was? Ask her if it’s her boyfriend she is going out with? Or stay silent forever, pretend he can still be lovesick over someone who rejected him over, and over, and over –

So instead, he comes back to a grand balcony, blonde hair swaying in the wind, replacing the feeling of painful longing with a feeling of endless pride.

“Hey, honeybun. Caught a glimpse of you on TV today.”

Groaning, Chloé leans further over the railing, not turning around to him. “Please kill me.”

“What? But you were doing so great!” He jumps off the railing, coming closer until he can nudge her shoulder. Playing dead, Chloé doesn’t even react. “Aw, queenie, now don’t act as if your soul was sucked out of you.”

“Maybe it was, alley cat.”

“If you ever had a soul, that is.”

“Wow. Low.” She kicks him in the shin. “Want me to call animal control? Would fit right in with the other strays.”

He grins, crossing his arms on the railing as he leans down to be on her eye level. She decidedly doesn’t look at him. “So, what inspired you? This handsome cat?”

“Ew. Please don’t make me puke.”

“I’ll take it as a no.”

She sighs, and groans, and buries her face in her arms, her answer too muffled to be intelligible. He leans closer, unable to hide the smirk from his face.

“What was that? You’ll need to speak up.”

“Adrien, okay?” she snaps, slamming her hands against the metal as she looks up, coming so close to his face he shies away in an instant. “Adrien Agreste, handsome, model, rich, if you don’t know him, you must have been living under a rock, which, no wonder there, whatever. He said something incredibly dumb and I changed my mind, okay? It wasn’t you, Chat Stupid, and this is so goddamn embarrassing, and, agh!” She flails her arms as she starts pacing. “Why are you even here? Why do you keep coming back? I’m not some stupid animal shelter! This is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!”

Him. So it was him.

She whirls back to him, hands on her hips. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Don’t you – why are you grinning like that? Stop grinning like that, I order you!”

“What?” He tries to smother his smile by bringing a hand to his face, but it still twitches back onto his lips. “Woops. Guess the sight of my angry honeybun is making me giddy.”

“ _Your_ honeybun?” she flares up. “I’m not your anything!”

“Not even my queen?”

“Not even –” She huffs, turning her back to him once again. Her voice becomes smaller. “I know your attention span is that of a toddler, but if you would have listened, you’d know that I’m … I’m not worthy of being called Queen Bee at all.”

That does make his smile fall. He regards her, moonlight in her hair. Shoulders hunched. Waiting, and waiting.

“You are to me.”

A second of silence. His voice sounded small, his words fragile, and for whatever reason, it makes his cheeks heat up. He is glad she isn’t looking at him.

“Well, great, but your opinion is of zero worth anyway,” she returns. Her words seem unsure and hesitant.

“Whose is of worth, then?”

Her shoulders drop. She sighs. Doesn’t turn around to him. “I’m nothing to her anyway. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

It’s not hard to guess who she means. “Then maybe, her opinion has just as little worth as mine.”

Chloé stays silent.

“Maybe the only opinion that matters is yours.”

She laughs coldly. “My mom is right. I’m nothing. I’m hated by everyone.” She takes a step, takes another one, but never turns around to him. “No matter what I do, it’s never enough. It’s never. Goddamn. Enough.” She takes a step to the right, the view of the inner city before her. “No matter what, or how much I do. She hates me. She just hates me.”

“She’s a horrible person,” Chat whispers, coming closer to her. “You don’t have to –”

“She’s my mother,” Chloé returns sharply, eyes glazed over, her face a grimace of longing as she turns to him. “She’s not horrible, she’s my _mother_.”

He gets it. Or maybe not. Despite all, he knows that his father loves him. He knows that his mother did, too. It’s the only thing making the pain manageable. It’s the only thing keeping him going, even when the whole world seems bleak and on the brink of falling apart.

He comes closer, and when he stretches a hand out for her, she doesn’t shy way. He brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. She lets him, averting her eyes.

“You know,” he mumbles. “I, for one, think you are capable of great things. I told you –”

“That you think I’m brave. Reckless. That I know my worth.”

He has to smile. “Memorized my words, huh?”

She doesn’t look at him, releasing a protesting sound as she crosses her arms. He lets his hand drop to his side again. “Don’t flatter yourself, catboy. It’s just …” Her fingers visibly dig into her arms. “No one ever said that to me. Ever.”

He doesn’t know what to say. Something about her expression makes him falter. Even if it had been Adrien standing before her – he wouldn’t have known what to do. Hug her? Smile at her? Find words? He doesn’t know. There’s only the faint light of the balcony’s lamps, and the way her lashes draw shadows over her rouged cheeks, and the way his heart thumps up to his throat.

“And I don’t care,” she eventually bursts out, turning away from him yet again as she steps towards her room, stopping right in front of the door. “I don’t give a damn what you think. I don’t give a damn what _anyone_ thinks.”

“Not even your mother?” it escapes him. He regrets the words as soon as they left his lips.

She stills. Glowers at him. “You have no idea. I bet you watch stupid movies with your mommy, and you both laugh about it like some idiots. I bet you have meals with her and talk about stupid stuff that happened at school. I bet she listens to you like some gross affectionate parent. It’s ridiculous, so utterly ridiculous!”

“I don’t have such a mom, actually.”

“Yeah, right. What, is she _mean_ to you? Aw, that’s –”

“She died.”

She didn’t. Or she very well could have, for all he knows. Gone from this world, just like that. But it’s better if Chloé doesn’t know more than that, and anyway, the words feel bitter on his tongue, pushing him back into reality. It’s saddening. It’s nauseating. He can’t properly look at the way Chloé freezes up, lips slightly parted and face blank.

“Why are you telling me this?” she asks.

Good question. He doesn’t know. Maybe to make her realize that any wall can be taken down. If only slowly. That it’s okay to be weak. That it’s okay to miss something, even if it’s something you never even had. He feels oddly exposed under her staring, and when he doesn’t answer, she takes a sharp step towards him.

“Do you want me to feel sorry for you? Is that it?”

“I don’t.”

“Then why are you telling me this?” She sounds almost desperate. There’s still so much distance between them which she seems unwilling to bridge, and with a helpless sound, she brings a hand over her eyes. “What does that have to do with anything? Why are you here? You should go. Now.”

Of course she doesn’t understand. Of course she doesn’t want to understand. The smile on his lips is bitter and painful. “You like to run away, huh? Running away from anything that requires showing genuine feelings. Is that it?”

“Shut up!” she barks. “What am I supposed to say? That I’d gladly trade places with you?”

He feels himself shiver. “You … What?”

“Yeah, keep looking at me like that! So much for genuine feelings, huh?” There’s something frantic to the way she turns away from him, to how her steps echo over the balcony. “She’s always – there. Whatever I do. She is always laughing at me. Always, always, and I can’t get rid of it. I can’t.”

This … It’s getting too much. It’s so much that his head aches.

“I’m sorry for your mom,” she says, voice growing smaller. “I’m really sorry. There, that’s the truth. Are you happy now? Does it help?”

“No.”

“I told you.” She wraps her own arms around her upper body. “See, I told you.”

Then what’s left? What’s left but themselves? It’s getting colder, and later, and the urge to leave becomes overwhelming. To leave her alone. Again, alone. As alone as he felt when his world was rearranged, suddenly missing that one person that always managed to make it a brighter place.

“You told me something else, too,” he mumbles, grabbing the lose leather attached to his belt, swinging it up and down. “Something about talking less and doing more.”

She doesn’t move.

“Maybe we should do just that. _Do_ something. And stop feeling sorry for ourselves.”

“That’s stupid,” she says. It doesn’t carry the same anger her previous words did.

“Is it? Those were your words.”

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “So? What do you want to _do_ , Chat Dumb?”

“Bring out the exceptional girl that you really are.”

It left him in certain, unwavering syllables. It leaves them in odd silence. These are big words. Somehow embarrassing words. He keeps swinging the end of the belt, tries his best not to shy away into shadows. Tries to remind himself that she is worth it. His oldest friend – she is worth it.

“That’s ridiculous,” she shoots back, not looking at him.

“So, what do you want to do?” he asks to distract himself from the bashfulness creeping up on him.

She stays silent for a long time. “Just ridiculous,” she repeats.

She doesn’t tell him more than that.

Instead of bumping his fist against hers, Chat Noir has to glance away, something wrapping around his heart in the most painful manner. “How was your date?”

In a moment of surprise, Ladybug lets her hand drop down. Bright daylight, her dark hair swaying in the wind. “I – I forgot to tell you before. I should have. I’m sorry I sprang that on you out of nowhere, Chat.”

He almost wants to laugh. Whenever he looks at her, his heart swells with gentle warmth. She is everything. She could make anything complete. Even a desperate heart. Whoever must have gotten to her before he finally could must be a lucky guy.

“Didn’t answer my question.”

A flicker of pain in her eyes. It’s almost ironic. “Nice. It was nice.”

“Is it that boy you love?”

“Chat –”

A loud beep. He looks down at his ring. He looks up at the city around him. Her Lucky Charm fixed everything, as it always does. No surprise there. When she takes a step back, the sound of her voice reaches him through bitterness.

“I do like him. A lot.” A weak smile. It doesn’t help. “But you know you mean the world to me, Chat Noir.”

With that, she swings away.

Her words are cruel, so sweet they collect in the pits of his heart, stuffing it to the very brim. He’ll have to go back to his friends, but when he detransforms, he can’t do anything but freeze in place, trying to catch his breath. Plagg lies in his palms, nibbling his cheese.

“Kiddo, you’re looking pale.”

“I’m fine,” Adrien returns.

“Don’t tell me it’s about Ladybug’s date?”

Adrien closes his eyes. “She said it was nice.”

“Well, good for her, ain’t it?” Despite his easygoing words, the tinge of worry in Plagg’s eyes is as clear as day.

“Good for her,” he therefore confirms, voice low.

Chloé’s words echo in his ears. How dare she have a love life that doesn’t involve him? How dare she? Maybe he really is being an idiot. Overstepping his boundaries. Maybe he has the choice to turn away, but it’s hard. Maybe he’ll never stop fighting. Maybe he’ll be bound to her for the rest of his days, desperately loving her even when she can’t, just _can’t_ give him back as much.

It takes him endlessly long to return to the little place next to the Seine. Kagami catches his eye first, relief flashing over her expression for a moment. When Nino spots him too, he gives a breath. “Dude. We were worried sick about you! Where were you hiding at?”

“Uh – just over there.” Vaguely, Adrien points behind him. “You’re all right?”

“Seems like we’re complete again.” Luka smiles at him. “Marinette was already worried you’d never show.”

With a little sound, Marinette wraps her arm around Luka’s and hides behind him. “Just – of course I’d be worried!”

“Yeah, just imagine sunshine being dragged away by an evil akuma.” Alya raises an eyebrow. “Come to think of it … Isn’t it somehow funny that Adrien was never akumatized? Not once?”

Adrien almost chokes on his next breath, but Kagami saves him quickly. “Some people can keep their emotions in check.”

“Even you were akumatized, dude,” Nino says.

For some seconds, Kagami stares at him. “ _Even_? What is this supposed to mean?”

“Well, just that your natural fencing skills make you a really scary supervillain, that’s all!” Marinette grins broadly from her hiding space. Patiently, Luka endures his new role as a human shield.

As if that really explains everything, Kagami nods a few times. “I see. Thank you very much.”

“I’m not sure if that was a –”

Before Luka can finish the sentence, Marinette kicks his shin. At her glare, he gives a little laugh and wraps his arm around her shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. Marinette’s whole face turns beet-red in a matter of seconds.

“Blegh,” Alya comments. “Way too cute.”

“Aw, feeling left out? But Alya, you just had to say so!” Nino comes closer to her, lips puckered. With a laugh, she backs away.

“Don’t you dare!”

Somehow awkwardly, Adrien exchanges a look with Kagami. He clears his throat, watching Nino chase Alya around. He feels so out of place that he rubs the back of his neck.

“Your friends are …” Kagami pauses. Longer, longer. “Interesting.”

“Thanks.”

Kagami shoots him a glance. Then she looks at her phone. “I have to go. I could convince my mother to take you with us.”

Before he can reply, he is tackled by Alya, and this time, it’s his turn to be a human shield as Nino’s puckered lips come closer to him. “Do something, Adrien!” Alya squeaks behind him, and he can’t help it. Laughing, he tries to dodge Nino’s attack too, Alya’s high-pitched sounds behind him.

It takes him a while to notice Kagami watching them, and when their eyes meet, she clears her throat. “Well. I shall take my leave now.”

“Bye, Kagami!” Alya calls, making Adrien stumble backwards with her hands still on his shoulders.

“Kagami,” he chokes out. “See you!”

She nods, her back already on them as she leaves. A bad feeling blooms in Adrien chest, but he can’t think about it too much before Nino successfully gets around him, giving Alya a loud smooch on her cheek. She giggles while trying to get away.

“Dude, no need to feel left out either,” Nino tells him, puckering his lips anew. “You want a big ole’ smooch, too?”

It’s Adrien’s turn to dodge the attack with a laugh, and when his eyes graze the other couple in their group, he discovers them sitting at the edge of the Seine, sharing a soft kiss. Sudden longing thumps through him. Longing for something similar. For feeling the same gentleness directed at him.

“Ew, again?” Alya calls out to them. “Please. You’re icky!”

Marinette flinches away quickly, whirling her head around to Alya. “Hey! I never complained about you and Nino either!”

“She has a point.” Nino shrugs, his smooching attack forgotten.

Adrien smiles softly, longing digging into his heart in tiny, tiny stings.

“What? Hiding from me, honeybun?”

“And coming back like an annoying stray. Who would have thought?”

“Know I can’t resist you for too long, bee’s knees.”

He hears her groan in annoyance, and he can’t help the smirk on his lips. It’s nighttime, and the door to her room is open. Still, it would be somehow intrusive to step foot into a room she never allowed him to see from inside, and so, he leans against the wall next to the door, looking up at the starless sky.

“What are you doing?” she calls from inside.

For a moment, the question bemuses him. “Waiting for you to take pity on me and show your pretty face, my queen.”

“Ew! Okay, nope, I’m revoking my invitation.”

“You never invited me in the first place.”

A few seconds of silence. “You really are stupid, huh, Chat Dumb.”

“Very funny.”

“Do you want me to scream at you from my room like an idiot all evening? Come in already!”

He can’t stop a grin from building on his lips. “What? Sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”

“Seriously?”

“Huh? Sorry, still nothing.”

Silence. The sound of stomps. Really angry stomps. Then Chloé emerges from her room, glaring at him. “Do I really have to drag you in like some dumb animal? I said, come in.”

He looks at her. Freezes. Moonlight in her open hair, flowing over her shoulders in curls that almost seem messy. A pale face. Clear, blue eyes. She looks so much younger than usual. There is an innocence to her face he can’t quite handle. With big eyes, and thin, pink lips.

She started using makeup when she was eleven. He remembers her first experiments, way too much eyeshadow aimlessly blended. She put on a heavier mask every time they met after that. Chat Noir forgot her bare face. He forgot how her features could twist in ways her contouring managed to hide, eventually.

“What?” she snaps, bashfulness clearly echoing in her voice. “Chickening out?”

He blinks himself awake from his thoughts. “What?”

“Told you you’re not a makeup artist. All you’ve got is a big mouth.” She rolls her eyes. The shimmer of red on her cheeks is entirely natural. Not a tinge of rouge hides her away. “What, are you going to stare all day like some idiot? Ugh, you are so getting on my nerves. Leave. I was about to go to sleep anyway, I really don’t need your –”

“Wait.” He jumps forward, grabbing her arm before she can turn away from him. Blonde hair, bright eyes. His throat almost closes up. “I – sorry. I would. I mean, I could. I could do your makeup.”

She stares at him, eventually yanking her arm free from his grip. “Just so you know. I’ll wash it all off before I go to sleep anyway. Precautional measure.”

“Precautional measure?”

“Because you sure as hell will screw up.”

“With a face as pretty as yours, I doubt it.”

It slipped out faster than he could control it. It slipped out so fast that even Chloé jumps, eyes darting over his face before she sharply turns around. “Whatever, catboy,” she returns, her voice unnecessarily sharp. His face is heating up. He doesn’t know what this is. Why his every move feels suddenly too much, and why he’d rather turn around and leave, and why he still follows her, entering her room.

He knows this room – rather, this small apartment, judging by the size of it – well enough. Of course he does. Chloé got it when she was twelve, and for the first four nights, she kept texting him, saying that she didn’t cry. Because mommy was in America again, but that wouldn’t make her cry. Mommy was an important person, after all. He was here afterwards, but it slowly, slowly started to feel weird. As she started telling him about school, teachers, classmates. As he couldn’t follow her stories at all.

Chloé never once made him feel bad about it, but still, it didn’t help much.

She sits down at her vanity table. In the artificial light of her room, it becomes even more apparent – how young her face really looks. Her cheeks are still slightly reddened, and with a huff, she pushes some curls over her shoulder. “Just so you know, you should feel honored. I never even let Sabrina put makeup on my face.” She frowns at him. “I’m going to kick your butt so hard if you make a clown out of me.”

He fidgets. Looks at her palette of makeup. Years of modelling and watching actual makeup artists left their traces. Despairing models losing a fake lash he had to glue back on, or girls smudging their eyeliner which he learned to fix, or some of them having to patch up their lipstick which he was taught after a while. Hours and hours of work on his own face, just to make him appealing not for a real eye, but for the camera alone.

He almost came to despise it.

“I won’t,” he promises. “Close your eyes.”

She keeps glaring at him for a second. Then, after a deep breath, her eyes fall closed.

She is silent. For a moment, he wonders why as he has a look at her shades of rouges, her concealers. He chooses a tone that is slightly brighter than her skin. He unscrews the lid, the brush giving a soft pop as he pulls it out. And it comes to him when the concealer lightly touches the blueish skin underneath her eyes. She looks vulnerable. So completely vulnerable as she holds her breath, as she shivers a bit under the way the brush traces the darkened spot. He doesn’t use one of her cosmetic sponges. Instead, he settles for a cotton swab, carefully blending the little bit of concealer with her skin.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” he tells her quietly.

She twitches, but doesn’t open her eyes. “For stooping so low as to let an alley cat do my makeup? Why, of course you would be proud.”

He smiles, even though she can’t see it. “No. For doing that interview.”

She stays silent. He moves to her other eye.

“You did a great job.”

“I don’t need your praise, Chat Faux Pas.”

“But you like it nonetheless.”

“Shut up.”

“Not denying it.”

“You’re such a nuisance. So ridiculous.”

But her voice has lost so much of its initial scorn, and he is still smiling as he regards her face. Long, pale lashes. Cheeks that scream to be squeezed. Lips. Pink lips. A little bit of something next to the right corner of her mouth. Before he knows it, he has moved closer. A crumble? No. A beauty mark, tiny and inconspicuous. He never saw that before. He never was so close to her, he thinks, not after she started to search for herself in prettily painted masks. He leans closer. No, it’s unfamiliar. Entirely unfamiliar, and he is suddenly so close that her breath hits his skin.

He freezes.

And then, too much happens at once.

Chloé’s eyes snap open. Chloé’s face flinches away. Chloé’s scream echoes through the room as her whole body lunges itself away from him, the sudden movement making her chair tip back. Before she can land on the floor, Chat Noir jumps after her, grabbing her and pulling her towards him. He underestimated the momentum, though, and instead of her, he is the one landing on the floor, back first. His hands are still on her arms as he gives a little “oomph”, and he needs seconds to open his eyes again.

Chloé is staring at him. Her face close, her cheeks red, her eyes widened. Something thumps in his chest. Something makes him lightheaded.

“What the –” She shrieks, flailing like a helpless fish before Chat lets her go. “What are you – oh my god, you tried to –”

“What?”

She scrambles away from him, face a mask of panic as she points a finger at him. “You wanted to kiss me!”

He blinks slowly. “I – what?”

“Don’t! Don’t act like that! That’s not what I meant by _doing_ something! Ew, ew, oh my god, oh my god!” Gagging, Chloé jumps to her feet. “This can’t be happening. This can’t – just because Ladybug doesn’t want to date you, doesn’t mean that I do!”

“What?” he repeats, flabbergasted. “I didn’t –”

“This is so nasty! Oh my god!” Her cheeks are glowing red. “Ew, you think I would ever want to kiss you? Ew! No!”

“I didn’t want to kiss you!” He climbs to his feet, his voice getting louder. “I wouldn’t – no, this is a misunderstanding!”

“A misunderstanding?” she repeats shrilly. “Sure it is! What, you leaned forward because you thought there was something on my face?”

He splutters wildly. “Exactly!”

“Oh my god,” she whispers, hands in her hair. “Oh god. I’m getting sick.”

Deadpanning, he keeps staring at her. “Now, don’t act like it would have been _that_ bad.”

“Of course it would have been that bad. My skin is crawling just thinking about it!”

“As if I ever even – I never – you’re a friend, nothing else!”

“We,” she snaps, pointing from him to her and back again, “aren’t friends, Chat Stupid!”

He feels taken aback as he looks at her. Right. Chat isn’t Adrien. What would she have done if he would have sat there as her childhood friend? Would she have flinched away too? Or would she have kept looking at him with clear blue eyes? Waiting for something, or waiting for nothing at all. Standing still. Second after second –

“Stop blushing!” she shrieks.

“I’m not blushing!” he returns.

“You so are!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Are – ugh – I need – I need to see anything but your visage right now! You’re so fired! Get out! Shoo!” She waves her hand frantically towards the balcony. “And stop looking at me like that! Stop looking at me at all! Oh god, you’re so icky!”

“I’m not –”

“Are too!”

“Just listen for a second!” When he steps closer to her, she jumps back with a scream.

“Don’t!”

“I’m not going to jump you, Chloé.”

“You almost did!”

“I did not!”

“Did too!” She points at the balcony again. “Leave! Now!”

“But –”

“Stop harassing me and _leave_!”

He groans heavily and stomps to the door. “Fine! But just for your information – I’d never want to kiss you. Ever. Ever!”

“I’m not blind, catboy! Just get lost!”

“Blind?” He whirls around to her again. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Chloé startles, her whole body going stiff as her cheeks assume color anew. “I saw how you looked at me.”

“How … I looked at you?”

“Don’t act like that! You know exactly what I mean!”

“I have no idea, actually.”

“Like hell you don’t!” She jumps to her bed, grabs a pillow, and throws it in his direction. It misses him by at least three meters. “Now, go! Buzz off! Get lost! Go be an icky stray cat somewhere else!”

“You’re being ridiculous,” he tosses back. “I might even say, utterly ridiculous.”

“Ugh! Leave!”

So he does. His cheeks are still burning as he leaves her standing, and his thoughts are a mess. He’s angry, but most of all – he can’t make sense of it. Of nothing about it.


	4. Chapter 4

Adrien is sure of one thing. He really, really doesn’t want to kiss Chloé.

He is sure as he keeps staring at pictures of her. She updates her Instagram page regularly. It’s almost comical how she’s able to stage herself. With just the right poses, or just the right motives. Every single picture another construct she shares with the world because it fits her own perspective. There are no pale cheeks. No blue eyes adorned by nothing but bright, almost translucent lashes. No hair that sticks out in ways it shouldn’t. No rosy lips.

When he finds himself zooming in to her lips again to see if she managed to cover her beauty mark (she did), he pauses. His cheeks get warm. Quickly, he exits the app.

“Huh,” he hears a voice behind him.

“Don’t,” he returns in an instant.

“Don’t what?” Plagg lets himself drop on his shoulder, a little snicker escaping him. “Don’t point out how you kept looking at photos of your stingy friend for more than half an hour now?”

Adrien groans. “Because she was being ridiculous! I never wanted to kiss her!”

“Aw, that’s so sweet.”

“No, Plagg!” Adrien closes his eyes for a moment and leans his head back. “This is so weird. Now everything will be awkward. I have to clear the air somehow. She’s still my friend!”

“Well, she’s Adrien’s friend. Not Chat Noir’s.”

“True,” he mumbles. “I could just stop visiting her.”

“Sure could, kiddo.”

He stares at the ceiling as he swallows. It was easy enough as Chat Noir. No history between them. Nothing to judge him on but himself. No portfolio of modelling photos, and no prestige to make him more appealing than he really is. He had no idea how Chloé would react.

Not like this, maybe.

“So, Casanova. Who do you like best?”

At the question, Adrien draws an eyebrow up and looks at his kwami. “What?”

“Out of your three choices, who are you gonna pick?”

“Not that again,” he groans, ignoring the amused shimmer in Plagg’s eyes. “You know the answer anyway.”

“Yeah. But isn’t your ladylove letting you stand on the sidelines right now?”

Adrien stays silent. Her eyes, full of careful sadness as he told him. Knowing how he would react. Her touches just short of being too much. Words that dropped from her beautiful mouth in little painful syllables. It hurts so much Adrien almost wants to cry.

“She is,” he whispers.

“Hey. Still got a lot of other hearts to break.”

“I don’t want to break any heart.”

“Didn’t mean it like that, kiddo.” Genuine worry sounds in his voice as Plagg floats closer. “Just wanted to remind you that you do have a choice, yeah? Just because your brain exploded and you became her instant worshipper when you saw Ladybug for the first time, doesn’t mean it’s gotta be like this forever.”

He returns Plagg look. “Are you telling me to go after Chloé?”

“Well, you sure seem to care a lot for her.”

“Oh god, no!” Adrien jumps to his feet, raking a hand through his hair. “No, not Chloé! She’s my friend. I’ve known her since we’ve been toddlers. She used to pretend I’m her servant, and then she kept firing me until I started to cry!”

Plagg stares. Eventually, he bursts out into loud laughter. Heat rises to Adrien’s cheeks.

“I don’t – I mean – I didn’t cry much!”

“Sure thing, buddy.”

“Anyway! It’s just – no. No, I couldn’t …” He starts pacing. Chloé’s bare face, bright big eyes. Chloé’s hair curling around her shoulders. That moment of concealed fear as she appeared before him. No. No, it’s just Chloé. “It’s just Chloé,” he repeats his thoughts aloud.

“Y’know, humans have some weird fixation on cute love stories. Childhood friends to lovers … You two would fit right in.”

“We wouldn’t!” Adrien flares up. “I don’t – she’s – no!”

“Well, you could try.” Plagg shrugs lazily.

“Try what?”

“Dunno. What humans do to find out if they have chemistry, or something. Give her a smooch and all that stuff.”

“I do not want to kiss Chloé!”

“Why not? She’d have nothing against it, would she?”

“Because,” Adrien hisses, “I don’t love her.”

A drawn-out sigh comes from Plagg. Rolling his eyes, he floats to his cheese drawer. “Ya won’t drop dead if you kiss someone you don’t love, Romeo. And she won’t either. After all, what’s that saying humans use? You’re only young once, or something.”

“You really have no idea about love, do you?” Adrien glares. “I can’t just kiss someone without feeling at least _something_ for them.”

“Know what one of my Chat Noirs did in ancient times? Used to make a list of how many men and women he had smooched. Told his buddies all about it. And me, too. Gosh, such an annoying brat. Whatever, we used to have some very philosophical debates about Aristotle. He knew that guy personally. Fun times.” Nibbling on his camembert, Plagg shoots him a long look. “He could kiss whoever he wanted, so why can’t you?”

Trying to process that information, Adrien stays still, strictly ignoring the heat on his face. “Because I don’t want to kiss her.”

“Eh.”

“What do you mean, eh?”

“You’re blushing like crazy, buddy.”

“I’m –” With a desperate groan, Adrien hides his face behind his hands. Paces around. Paces some more. “Can we please stop talking about this?”

“Sure thing. If you stop checking her photos every twenty minutes, I’m in.”

“I – I wasn’t – I was just sorting out my feelings.”

“Feelings about smooching your childhood honey?”

“Plagg, no!”

Adrien stays true to it. He really, really doesn’t want to kiss Chloé.

The panic he feels when he sees her in front of the school before classes is entirely rational. His body becomes a rigid board as she jumps at him with a shriek, face way too close to his. That’s somehow ironic, and he wonders how she’d react if she knew that it’s actually Chat Noir she is jumping at like this.

“Adrikins!” she squeals, face coming even closer, lips puckered. Lips. Pink lipstick, and enough makeup to hide that little beauty mark, but he remembers exactly where it is, he remembers way too well.

And before she can kiss his cheek, he grabs her shoulders and pushes her back with a bit too much force. So much so that Chloé’s eyes grow wide as she stumbles backwards, her arms being forced to slide from his shoulders as he keeps holding on to her. Her lashes aren’t fake, but her eyeshadow is too heavy. Her hair is too perfect. Her cheeks are unnaturally red. For a moment, he longs for that rosy shimmer he managed to bring to her face, and the thought almost makes him choke.

“Could you, Chloé, I mean, maybe not, could you _stop_ that?”

The mess of syllables makes his cheek heat up, and it makes Chloé stare at him wordlessly. Adrien is vaguely aware of the pairs of eyes watching them. It makes him so nervous he grabs Chloé’s shoulders harder to ground himself, and when he feels her freeze at the touch, he hastily retracts his hands again.

“Stop what?” she brings out in a peep.

“You know. Uh.” He wants to run away. Hide forever, preferably. “We could, um, greet each other normally?”

“Normally,” she repeats. A shimmer of shame flashes through her eyes. And he knows her well enough to surmise what that means. Because vulnerability is the one thing she would never want to show, and with all those eyes on her, anger will be her first obvious choice.

So he reacts as fast as he can.

“Like,” he quickly replies, leaning forward, “that.”

Cheek against cheek. Her way too strong perfume in his nose. He makes sure to kiss nothing but the air, makes sure to ignore the warmth of her skin. Moves to the other side. Moves back again. Their faces are too close. He fidgets on the spot.

She keeps staring at him. “I – didn’t I – Adrikins, I’ve always greeted you like that.”

“You kind of tackle me every single time.” He tries to smile at her. “It’s just, um, safer this way?”

She opens her mouth, but before she can speak, he pats her shoulder several times, his smile still in place.

“So, see you, Chloé! In class! So nice to have been greeted by you. Very nice.”

Looking at nothing but the ground, Adrien scurries away.

He kind of realizes that he made a mistake when he feels all eyes on him in the classroom, and as he sits down next to Nino, his cheeks seething hot, he’d like nothing more than to disappear. Even Nino himself looks at him funnily.

“Dude,” he simply says.

“What?” Adrien returns, feigning innocence as he starts unpacking his bag.

“Someone filmed all of that and put it in the class group chat.”

“All of what?” Despite trying to sound indifferent, Adrien’s voice gets an octave too high.

Before Nino can answer, Alya bursts into laughter behind them, shoving her phone right in Adrien’s face. “I cannot believe this! It’s even better than the Kim incident last year! Sunshine, I’m so freaking proud of you.”

Adrien is greeted by a picture of Chloé’s entirely aghast face, probably the moment when he made his hasty exit. Complete with a caption reading “Miss Mendeleiev: So you all remembered to do your homework, right? Chloé:”. It’s not even that funny. Before he can really process it, Alya swipes to the exact same picture, only the caption having changed. “Miss Bustier: Oh no worries, the test won’t be hard at all! The whole class: Fails. Miss Bustier:”.

“You made Chloé a meme,” Nino snorts next to him. “Man. Wow.”

“She’s gonna flip!” Laughing again, Alya lets herself sink back to her seat. “I cannot believe it! Adrien, this is just too good.”

Adrien’s fingertips turn cold. Before he can really think about it, a bang sounds in front of him. He winces violently, whirling around to be greeted by Sabrina’s piercing eyes.

“How dare you?” she spits.

“I – uh –”

“Humiliating Chloé like that! After she put so much trust in you!”

“Chill, dude,” Nino says next to her, wrapping an arm around Adrien’s shoulders. “Not like he personally took that photo, did he?”

“Also,” Alya leans forward, “he has a right to have his own boundaries, doesn’t he?”

But Sabrina doesn’t seem to be listening, pointing an accusing finger at Adrien. “It’s all your fault! She will be made fun of and it will be your fault!”

His hands are twitching in nervousness as he steadily returns Sabrina’s look. “Where is she?”

“Don’t even think about it,” she answers sharply. “You’re the last person she wants to see right now, and it’s more than understandable, you … fiend!”

“Oh, wow. Really?” Alya rolls her eyes. “Look at me and tell me you don’t find those memes at least a bit funny.”

Sabrina turns red as a tomato. “Not when they’re making fun of Chloé!”

“Dude. Nobody’s making fun of her.” Grinning, Nino scrolls through the group chat. “Seriously, her face is priceless. Perfect meme template. Mostly making fun of teachers, that’s all.”

“Nobody ever asked her if she wants to be a meme template,” snaps Sabrina.

“And nobody asked Adrien if he wants to have his personal space invaded every single goddamn day by Queen C either, huh?”

“It’s not like …” Adrien searches for words, torn between running right out of the classroom or hiding under his desk for the remaining day. “I didn’t want to make her a meme, you know.”

The bell rings. With one last glare, Sabrina turns away. Nino pats his shoulder a few more times before letting go and leaning back. “My bro, seriously. You were right to set some boundaries.”

“And you even did it ever so politely,” mumbles Alya, still leaned over her desk. “Our darling boy is growing a pair, huh?”

Adrien ducks his head. “It’s not …”

“So much for boundaries.” Nino tsks at his girlfriend. “Better watch out, or you’ll become the next meme template.”

“Sorry, sunshine.” She grins at him. “This is just way too entertaining.”

He feels himself turn red. It’s Miss Bustier who saves him, entering the classroom. Shortly behind her, Marinette trails along, hurrying to her seat before the teacher can spot her. Adrien can’t even properly smile at her, because when he turns his head, he is greeted by Chloé’s empty seat.

He bites the inside of his cheek.

The bell rings, announcing the beginning of their lunch break. People pass by his desk, directing some clearly amused words at Adrien. He tries to smile and ends up with a weird grimace. Telling Nino he has to get something done, he waits for him to stand up and leave. Then he whirls around in his seat.

“Marinette.”

Mentioned girl bolts upright, eyes wide. Alya sends them a funny look, and when he returns it, she puckers her lips and leaves them be. The classroom is empty by now, and Marinette hectically jams her last things into her bag.

“I so didn’t watch that video during Miss Bustier’s class! I swear! Okay, I did. But I wasn’t laughing at it!”

“Ah. That was why you had to sneeze five times in a row.”

“I swear, I totally did sneeze! It wasn’t poorly concealed laughter!” At his staring, she falters. “Okay. I’m sorry. But did you see her face? It was hilarious!”

Groaning, he lets his forehead meet the edge of Marinette’s desk. “I humiliated her.”

“Um – by her standards, maybe? But seriously, Chloé needs to be told the truth once in a while.” Her voice comes a bit closer. He doesn’t look up. “She should be glad you were so perfect to her. Uh, adorable. Uh, nice, I mean. Nice!”

Hesitantly, he looks up, being met by a small smile. “She doesn’t text me back.”

“Of course she doesn’t.” Marinette rolls her eyes. “She’s totally sulking.”

“I did something stupid, right?”

At that, she stares at him, both eyebrows raised. “Stupid? You only told her you don’t want to be tackled by her every single morning.” She coughs quietly. “Understandably so.”

Doesn’t make him feel better, though. He shrugs as his finger traces the rim of her desk. “Why do I still feel horrible, then?”

A little sigh. A warm hand on his forearm. “Because you have way too good a heart. That’s why.”

Her voice was soft and warm, something he so desperately misses. He can’t help the smile on his face as he looks up at her again. Moments pass, and he can practically watch the blush creep on her cheeks, and the way her eyes dart over his face before she suddenly pulls back her hand, a nervous laugh on her lips.

“Not that I – uh, I just – not like I’m still totally into you. I mean, totally watching you. I mean, no, I have a boyfriend, you know! Not that it has anything to do with – okay. Okay, Alya, waiting. Bye, outside. Video good, you good. Great!” With a stiff grin, Marinette gives him a thumbs-up and quickly jumps off her seat, hurrying out of the classroom.

He looks after her, her weird monologue a bit too much to process. But at least he knows that Marinette would never lie to him just to make him feel better. She’s the nicest person he knows, after all. He’s alone in the classroom, and when he looks at his phone, there’s still no reply to his texts. Even though Chloé was online. Sulking, huh? If she would just listen for once –

A shimmer of anger latches onto him in a sudden wave. It could be so easy. She could be such a good person, but she chooses not to, and no matter what he tries, nothing changes. As much as she likes to talk about _doing_ something, of course it doesn’t apply to her. It never does.

He sighs one last time and leaves the classroom.

“Mr. D’Argencourt asked for you.”

Adrien fidgets, pressing the phone closer to his ear. “Can you please tell him I was held up in class or something? There’s something I have to do.”

“Have to do,” Kagami repeats. Her voice sounds as void of any agitated emotion as always. “What is there you’d have to do instead of coming to your fencing class?”

He shoots a look over his shoulder. The Gorilla is watching him from the car, bright sunlight being reflected off the car’s lacquer. “I … Well, there’s something … I did something stupid.”

A long second of silence. “Is it about this Chloé girl?”

Adrien almost chokes. “I …”

“Because the video got around the whole school. I thought you were closer than that.”

Oh god. He doesn’t know how to explain. Massaging the bridge of his nose, Adrien sighs. “There’re just, well, things we have to talk about.”

“I’m glad you stood up for yourself. Still, it worries me that a girl like her would make you miss your classes. Is she more important than that?”

Something about her question makes Adrien freeze in place. A voice in his head whispers to find an answer that will preferably soothe her, but he doesn’t find the words. They leave him at once when he sees someone approaching the hotel’s entrance. Ginger hair, arms crossed, and Adrien almost jumps out of his skin. “I’m sorry, Kagami. I really have to go.”

A sigh. “I will cover for you this once. Put please think about your priorities, Adrien.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, telling her his goodbyes before hurrying towards Sabrina. He stops her by calling her name, and Sabrina whirls her head around to him, eyes wide.

“What are you doing here?” she shrieks.

“Same as you, I guess.” He rubs the back of his neck, trying not to let his eyes wander away in nervousness. “I tried calling Chloé, but she doesn’t pick up.”

“Of course she doesn’t! You really think she wants to talk to you of all people right now?”

It’s almost funny how deeply angered Sabrina seems. He draws his brows together. “I mean – yes? To talk about it?”

“Talk about it,” Sabrina repeats. “What do you want to talk about? How many other ways you can keep humiliating her in?”

“You know exactly that this wasn’t my intention,” he mumbles, still rubbing his neck. “It’s just – it was a bit too much.”

“Too much! And so much for being friends, huh?” With a shake of her head, Sabrina strides on. Adrien follows her without a second of hesitation. The doorman lets Sabrina in instantly. Adrien has to repeat his name twice before the doorman recognizes him and lets him through. Sabrina didn’t wait for him; instead, he catches up to her as she is waiting for the elevator.

“Don’t tell me,” his short sprint has him huffing for air, “that you never once told her you don’t like something she’s doing.”

Sabrina raises her eyebrows at him. “I didn’t.”

He stares. “Seriously? Not once?”

“She can do no wrong, after all.”

“Are you … You really are serious.”

“At least I’m a good friend to her.” Sabrina narrows her eyes, and he can’t hold back a disbelieving laugh from leaving his throat.

“A good friend? A good friend would want her to become a better person, not encourage her to stay like … like this!”

“A good friend would accept her just like she is,” Sabrina hisses.

“Do you even _know_ who she is?” Something stirs in Adrien’s stomach, and he feels a scowl form on his face. “Do you have any idea what she feels outside of what she is telling you?”

“I do!” Sabrina steps closer to him, her hands clenched to fists at her sides. “I know she is lonely! I know she can’t talk about her feelings! I know her at her lowest, so much better than you do! You turn away when you don’t like something about her. You tell her to change. But I stay by her side! I accept her good sides, her bad sides, and you don’t!”

Adrien tries to say something. Not a sound comes out of his mouth. He’s so torn that he can only stand and stare for moments on end, and the elevator gives a jingle when it comes to a halt before them, its doors opening. Sabrina turns away with a huff, and when he wants to follow her, she shoots him a glare.

“You really are the last person she wants to see right now, Adrien.”

Maybe she is right. Desperation claws at his throat.

“Tell her I’m …” He exhales soundly. “Tell her to call me.”

Sabrina doesn’t reply as the doors close again, and Adrien is left in agonizing silence. Just how much does he really know about Chloé? Just how much worth is a friendship formed in their childhoods, a friendship that got shakier the more time passed? Knowing who she is, what she does – what is a friendship such as this one supposed to mean?

His class’s group chat is spammed with memes depicting Chloé’s shocked face. None of them really make fun of Chloé herself, and if they do, it’s never something too mean. But still, with an ego as fragile as hers –

He feels helpless, and ridiculous, and before he can think too hard about it, he sends a text into the group chat.

_Chloé is clearly feeling uncomfortable. Please stop posting memes about her, would you?_

No reply. For a minute, Adrien keeps staring at his text, his heart pounding. He’s so nervous that he almost drops his phone when he gets another text, privately this time. Marinette, asking him if he is all right. Quickly followed by Nino, three laughing emojis and a clearly amused “dude be white-knighting”.

He rolls his eyes. Quickly, he texts both of them back, then sighs and turns to the exit.

It’s still painful to look at her. With her deeply blue eyes, with the perfection of her every move. Chat Noir wonders how long it will take until his heart finally stops stirring every time she as much as glances at him in passing. He wonders so much that he has to look away, the night having laid its veil over the whole of Paris. The distance between them has grown.

“I should have never told you at all,” Ladybug mumbles. “I should have just stayed quiet about it.”

He gives an amused hum. “No. I appreciate your honesty.”

“Wow. That bit of sarcasm was really unnecessary.”

“Was it now?”

A deep sigh. They aren’t looking at each other. He doesn’t know if he even could, or if he’d try to evade her eyes right away. Every second stretches on for longer, and when she speaks again, her voice is eaten up with helplessness.

“Don’t do this to me, Chat. Don’t act as if I did something wrong.”

“You didn’t,” he presses out. “Of course you didn’t. I … I just need time.”

“I told you. I told you all this time that I can’t be with you.” He hears her shift closer, and he resists the urge to move away. “Look at me. Please.”

And because he is a lovesick fool, he does. He turns his head to look at her. Bluebell eyes directed at him. Glimmering in pale moonlight. Her lower lip trembling just the tiniest bit. How many times did he imagine pressing his own lips against hers? How many times did he dream of touching her, pulling her close? Just how many times?

“You can’t expect me to be okay with it just like that,” he returns, voice sharper than he wanted it to be. “I need time, okay? I need time to process that someone like you would never want to be with someone like me.”

“That’s not it. Not at all.” She leans even closer, and he finally has the good sense to back away. Fury starts sparkling in her eyes. “It wouldn’t have mattered! It wouldn’t have mattered anyway! Even if, for some unfathomable reason, I’d be able to fall for you, we couldn’t have been together.”

It hurts so much that he wants to coil up. Instead, he gives a cold snort. “Why? Because we aren’t meant to be together?”

She taps against the mask around her eyes, brows furrowed. “Because those would have had to stay. Forever.”

He wants to laugh. He can’t. “They wouldn’t have.”

It’s her turn to snort coldly. “Who says you would even like me without that mask?”

“I do. I know I would.”

“You have no idea. You have no idea who I am without it. There’s no way –”

“Sorry, Ladybug. But I’m done with searching for excuses.” He jumps to his feet. His heart is bouncing in wild agony. “If there’s an akuma, I’ll be by your side. You can count on me.”

“Chat!” She gets up too, stepping towards him. “You can’t just run away from it. You can’t just …”

She stops as he comes towards her, as his hands reach for her face. She is beautiful. God, she is the most beautiful thing he ever looked at. In surprise, she keeps looking at him, her whole body going slack as his thumbs stroke her soft skin.

Chat Noir is sure of one thing. He’s dying to kiss her. To show her that his heart will always belong to her, and her alone.

Instead, he tries to smile. “Give me a few days, my lady. Please. It will be okay, I promise. It’s just … Right now, it hurts too much.”

She swallows. Doesn’t move away. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” He presses a light kiss to her forehead and moves away. “I’m sorry too.”

He has to go. He has to leave. He can’t stay in her proximity, trying to imagine the many ways she is kissed not by him, but by a boy he doesn’t even know. Someone who was able to steal her heart before he ever could. Doubts gnaw at him as he jumps over rooftops, cold wind against his cheeks.

Of course he lands on a familiar rooftop. It isn’t even a surprise to him.

The lights are on inside Chloé’s room. No trace of her out here. He lands on the railing, crouching, thinking. But he can’t waltz into her life like that, can’t pretend he could be the one solution to her every problem. He’s a stranger to her. And maybe even Adrien became one, too.

It takes time until he sees the plates of cookies in front of the balcony door.

He hesitates. Comes closer on quiet paws. No note, no nothing. He takes one of the cookies and bites into it. Not even the sweet taste can help. He takes another one, another one, another, until his mouth is jammed full of them, and the sound of sudden steps makes him freeze in place.

The balcony door is pushed open. Chloé glares at him. Her hair is in her typical ponytail. Her makeup seems a bit different, though – not too much rouge. As if she had to wipe her cheeks too often to bother. His mouth is filled with cookie crumbs, and he suddenly finds himself unable to swallow.

“Lovely. A stray cat.” She rolls her eyes. “But of course it takes no more than some free food to have you here. Ugh, this is just ridiculous.”

He manages to gulp down the cookies without choking on them. “Don’t tell me you forgot those right here, honeybun.”

She turns up her nose. “Well, maybe I did.”

“Sure thing.”

“Your grinning is just way too disgusting. Stop it.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Can’t tell people what to do that easily, queenie.”

She groans. Arms still crossed, she sits down across from him, taking a cookie herself. “Jean-Paul made them for me.”

“And you didn’t share them with Sabrina?”

She stares at him. Right. Not supposed to know that. He coughs, taking another cookie.

“Because I saw her leave. Earlier.”

“Way earlier,” she grumbles. “Couldn’t stand seeing her pitiful face. I sent her away hours ago.” She scowls. “Did you … Did you watch me?”

“What? No.”

“Oh. Oh, ew. Why do you have to be that nasty?” She throws half her cookie at him. It bounces off his forehead, landing on the floor in a crumbling mess. “What, are you obsessed with me or something? Chat Creep much?”

He sniffs pointedly. “Obsessed with _you_? Nah, sorry, not possible.”

“Right. You’re still sulking over Ladybug.”

At that, Chat Noir freezes, quickly looking away. “I’m not sulking. I’m trying to get over it.”

“Judging by your pathetic face, it isn’t going too well.”

“Very tactful.”

“Thank you! I know, I’m just perfect.” She frowns at him. “If you’re using me as some icky rebound, I’m so going to fire you.”

Now, he chokes for good. “Chloé, I told you! I didn’t want to kiss you.”

“Well, look at me. Of course anyone would want to kiss the perfection that is me!” She grins for a moment, then rolls her eyes. “Except for those idiots from my class, maybe.”

His heart thumps. “Did something happen?”

“Something,” she repeats, sinking to the floor until she is staring up at the starless sky. For a moment, he can only stare at her, at how her eyes flicker with emotions he can’t name. Then he follows suit, her voice washing over him, her expression lost on him in this position. “I just got reminded that everybody hates me. That’s all.”

She doesn’t sound as unaffected as her words would imply. He closes his eyes for a second. “What happened, exactly?”

“Do I really have to tell you, catboy?”

“You don’t have to.”

She keeps quiet. A cold breeze travels over his skin. It feels lonely up here, and somehow, it doesn’t.

“I mentioned Adrien once. If your pea brain can remember that much.”

He snorts. “It does.”

“Well. He humiliated me at school today.”

Chat Noir closes his eyes again. “How so?”

“He – can you believe it?” She sits up, gesticulating wildly. “You see, he’s – we’ve known each other for forever! So of course I’d greet him in just that way – you know, be all excited to see him! Just my genuine feelings, okay? And he –” Her hands drop down. Pouting, she turns her head away. “He told me to tone it down. Basically scolding me. In front of everyone.”

Chat sits up too. “Well –”

“Dupain-Cheng must have planted something dumb into his brain. That must be it!”

He blinks at her. “Marinette?”

“Or those other stupid friends of his. I knew that Lahiffe is nothing more than a useless wannabe.”

“Hey –”

“And, ugh, don’t let me get started on Césaire. I can’t stand her dumb face.”

“Okay, hold on!” His loud voice makes her flinch, and she stares at him with wide eyes. “I mean – did you – did you talk to him about it?”

“Talk?” she drawls. “What, so he can humiliate me further?”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to humiliate you.”

“Oh, like hell he didn’t.” With a huff, Chloé draws her phone out of her pocket and unlocks the display. “You know what they did? They made a meme out of me!”

She shows him one of the pictures. The caption reading this time, “Mr. Damocles: Nobody shall recognize my poor attempts at being a secretive superhero! Everyone: Yeah so Mr. Damocles is Dark Owl. Mr. Damocles:” It almost makes him chuckle, but he stops himself when he spots Chloé’s deeply reddened cheeks. Quickly, she retracts her phone.

“It’s unbelievable! Utterly unbelievable!” With watery eyes, she scrolls on. Until she suddenly stops. “Oh.”

“Oh, what?”

She stares at her phone, eyebrows furrowing. “He told them to stop sending memes.”

His heart jumps to his throat. “Who? Adrien?”

“Ridiculous,” she mutters as she slides closer to Chat Noir, showing him the chat log. He didn’t even look at the group chat after sending in that message, so all the replies are new to him.

_chill adrien just having fun_

_As if Chloé wouldn’t have done the same._

_lol she would have done worse things tho ……._

_HE’S RIGHT!!!! STOP!!!!!!_

_sabrina caps lock off pls?_

_NO!!!!!!! NEVER!!!!!!!!!!!_

_Let’s kick Sabrina out of the chat, whose votes do I get?_

_🙋_ _️_

 _🙋_ _️_

 _🙋_ _️_

 _🙋_ _️_ _️_

_HEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

_🙋_ _️_

 _🙋_ _️_

_democracy, baby_

_No! Okay. I’m sorry._

Chat has to laugh. Chloé scrolls further down, but there are no new memes. Only some bantering with Sabrina, and them some talking about their English homework, and then – nothing.

“See.” He grins and pokes her side. “He didn’t mean to humiliate you.”

Pouting at her phone, Chloé locks the display. “How would you know? You don’t know him.”

“You really think he wanted to put you in a bad light?”

“Like everyone else on this planet, maybe?”

Sighing, he closes his eyes for a second. “You could just talk to him, you know. Ask him why he did what he did.”

“Why would I? It’s obvious anyway.”

This is getting frustrating. So much so that Chat glares at her. “Well, what a surprise. Unable to listen to anyone’s feelings but your own. Maybe you should stop thinking that the only explanation that makes sense is always yours, how about it?”

His sharp tone makes her turn her head. She returns his glare with the same fire. “You have no idea, Chat Dumb. That’s how people are. They treat me like some inapt idiot, and I will treat them just the same. Easy.”

“That’s not how people treat you. That’s how your mother treats you.”

She stares at him, eyes becoming watery even though the anger doesn’t dissipate. “It – you – no. You have no – you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t, huh?” His words get softer. “Maybe you should stop being a copy of your mother and start being your own person. Maybe then you will see that actually, people aren’t as bad as you think they are.”

She stares. And stares. And then, she shoves his shoulder with more force than necessary, jumping to her feet. “My own person!” she repeats shrilly. “My own person! And maybe you should develop more character traits than ‘I’m panting after a girl everyone and their grandma has a crush on’, huh?”

He feels all blood leave his cheeks. “I – I have more traits than that!”

“Clearly.” She crosses her arms and looks at him with a fury that makes him shake. “I don’t need anyone. No one at all. Because all people do is humiliate you in the end. No matter what you do. All they do is stomp on you until you can’t bleed anymore. All they do is toss you to the side and leave you. Never even deign you a look if it isn’t convenient to them. They forget that you even goddamn exist!”

Her words leave silence. Anger is replaced by an ache Chat doesn’t know how to handle. Slowly, he stands up, coming just the tiniest bit closer. “You know who you’re describing right now. You know it as well as I do.”

Chloé turns away from him. “Buzz off, Chat Dumb.”

“I won’t. I want you to look at me and tell me the truth.”

“The truth about what?”

“About why you keep pushing people away.”

Bold words. Chat shivers. There’s no one but them here, the night’s darkness covering every nook and cranny. He discovers that her shoulders are shaking. He discovers that his hands are shaking, too.

“I get it, okay?” she barks out, but doesn’t turn to him. “I hate my mother. But she’s my mother. I have no choice but to love her, too. Even though she keeps leaving me behind. Even though she doesn’t speak to me right now, acting as if I’m not there when she tells my daddy how much of a disgrace I am. Even though I make her promise she’ll be there for my birthday every single year, and she never is. Even though the last time she gave me a Christmas present was when she saw me crying in front of the hotel and gave me a hot chocolate to make up for it. People always put me down. She always puts me down. She makes me feel like nothing. I’m not nothing. I’m not nothing, am I?” Her voice is quivering, but she still isn’t looking at him. “People hate me, and I hate them. It’s always been like this. Why listen to them? They will only hate me more. It’s so stupid. So utterly stupid.”

He wants to say something grand, something that can solve all her problems, something that will make her feel validated and at peace. But all that escapes him is a meek, “I don’t hate you.”

“If you don’t right now, you eventually will.”

“I won’t.”

“Right. Because that peabrain of yours isn’t smart enough to realize that it’s better to hate me.”

It’s getting too much. With a frustrated sound, he steps up to her, grabbing her arm and making her turn around to him. Tears in her eyes, her jaw set, and she yanks her arm away in a matter of seconds.

“You are so much more than what your mother makes you believe,” he tells her, not letting go of her eyes.

“You have no idea! You have no idea who I am!” Instead of backing away from him, she steps closer, eyes set ablaze even as they glaze over. “Even Adrien – even he would like nothing more than to get me out of his life!”

“You didn’t even _ask_ what he thinks!”

“I don’t freaking need to! I’m nothing to him! No wonder, isn’t it? I’m nothing, and people are right to leave me, they are right to hate me, and –”

It’s a kneejerk reaction. It’s his tumbling heart failing to hold on. It’s a frantic attempt to show Chloé she is more than that, and before he can hold himself back, he grabs her face. Pink lips. Widened eyes. A second until his lips crash against hers, and everything becomes silent.

It’s only a touch. It’s only warmth against warmth. She doesn’t give a sound, going still beneath him. A second passes, and his heart is starting to race in his chest, and he can’t even properly process what happened until a loud clattering sound makes him break away at once, his hands releasing Chloé quickly.

When he whips his head around, he is greeted by the sight of a glaringly red suit, and it takes him some time to realize Ladybug is on the floor, tangled between some deckchairs, eyes resembling saucers as she stares at them. Flabbergasted, Chat stares back.

Silence. Deafening silence.

“What the … _What_?” Ladybug exclaims.

Oh. Crap.


	5. Chapter 5

Searching for words, Chat Noir opens his mouth. Closes it again. Luckily for him, Chloé beats him to it, giving a shriek as she jumps away from him.

“I never agreed to this!” she flares up. “I never – ugh, gross, gross, he kissed me, oh my god!”

“He kissed you,” Ladybug repeats, almost stumbling over the deckchairs again as she tries to stand up.

Chat feels all blood leave his cheeks. “I. I, um. I, maybe. Maybe?”

“Maybe?” Chloé repeats, gagging. “God, I’m going to throw up.”

“You kissed her,” Ladybug says, her voice no more than a cheeping sound as she finally manages to stand on her feet.

Chat can only stand there like an idiot, looking from one girl to the other and back again. “Sorry?”

“You should be sorry!” Chloé glares at him, then gags once again. “And to think Kim crushing on me was bad enough – no, some wannabe hero has to kiss me! On the lips! I’m traumatized, utterly traumatized!”

And in a matter of seconds, his cheeks turn seething hot again. “You almost kissed me back!”

“I so did not!”

“You so did!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Chat Noir!” a stern voice wrenches them from their argument, and Chat jumps, turning back to Ladybug. Her hands are on her hips, and her brows are furrowed. “We need to talk.”

He stares at her. “Why are you even here?”

Her face falls. Before she can reply, Chloé interrupts them once again. “Because she loves me so much that she’d visit me, duh! We’re, like, besties!” Quickly, she steps up to Ladybug, looping her arm around Ladybug’s. Her face darkens. “He totally jumped me. Please help me, Ladybug. Fire him!”

“Why are you jumping Chloé?” Ladybug asks, her voice climbing higher.

“I’m not –” He glares at Chloé. “I’m not jumping you!”

“You were!”

“Was not!”

“Were too!”

“Oh my god,” Ladybug groans, shaking Chloé off. “Chat. Now.”

He moves on instinct, almost missing Chloé’s quiet remark. “And sure enough, acting like a kitten on the leash …”

Squinting at her, he tilts his head. “You want me to stay?”

Chloé jumps. Her whole face becomes red. “Of course not! Ew, no, please don’t! I cannot stand your proximity! I would never want to continue where we left off! You, kissing me? That’s so utterly disgusting! I’ll need two therapists after that event! And, and your lips are totally chapped, you ever heard of lip balm? Yeah, looking at you, I think so too! Also, I bet you’re a horrible kisser, and – just leave, Chat Yuck!”

“Oh my god,” Ladybug repeats, eyes darting from Chloé to Chat. “How long has this been going on?”

Trying to smother the little smile on his lips, Chat blinks at her. “What?”

“And making me feel bad about dating another guy? Are you serious, Chat?”

Chloé’s eyes grow wide. “Oh my god. Right. Another guy. You totally used me as a rebound.”

“I – no. Wait –”

She stomps towards him, jabbing a finger against his chest. “Why don’t you kiss the wall instead, huh? I can really do without being used like an idiot, catboy.” Her words sound harsh, but tears shimmer in her eyes once again, and she turns away so quickly that he can’t even stop her. “And just for your information, you’re the worst kisser I have ever met!” With that, she enters her room, sliding the door shut behind her with so much force that the glass shakes dangerously.

“Wait!” Chat calls, already taking a step towards the door, when Ladybug’s voice stops him.

“Chat. We really have to talk about this.”

It’s overwhelming. All of it. The faint taste of expensive lipstick lingers on his lips, and he turns around sharply, trying to sort out his thoughts without starting to scream. “You followed me.”

At that, she fidgets, averting her gaze. Moonlight in her hair, but it stays as dark as shadows themselves. “I was worried. I just – and when you went straight to Chloé’s – Chloé of all people –”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

His words are drenched in endless anger. It’s not fair. It’s not fair on either one of them, but still, she mirrors his ire, clenching her hands to fists. “I wouldn’t. Not my place to say anything. But you’re still a superhero. And she’s a civilian.”

“So?”

“So?” she repeats, high-pitched. “What are you going to do? Reveal your identity to her? Give Hawk Moth ammunition to blackmail us? Endanger her and her whole family?”

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what to do. She isn’t wrong, and it makes him so angry that he buries a hand in his hair, trying to think. “We aren’t exactly dating.”

“You – you’re kissing her because – without a reason?”

He looks at her, at the flash of pain on her face. “Is there a reason you’re going out with your boyfriend?”

“Because I like him.”

“Well, maybe I like Chloé.”

“That’s – that’s ridiculous.” Ladybug shakes her head, looking away with a cold laugh. “Chloé? Chloé Bourgeois of all people? Why her?”

“You don’t even know her,” he returns.

“I know her well enough to know she doesn’t deserve you!”

His whole body tenses. “Since when can you tell me who deserves me? The one person I hoped would finally see me the way I see her is dating another guy right now, so who are you to tell me _anything_?”

She keeps looking at him. Beautiful clear eyes. His heart is a mess. He tries to swallow down his emotions, dragging a hand over his face. It’s too much, entirely too much.

“Do you love her?” her faint voice reaches him.

He wants to laugh. He wants to cry. He slowly lets his hand sink down, looking at her, taking her in, her silhouette in pale moonlight. “No,” he replies, and it’s nothing but the truth.

 _Do you love me?_ the silent question hangs in the air.

 _Forever_ , his answer echoes without a sound.

Distance separates them as she keeps looking at him, concern written all over her face, and she gives a little sound. “It’s too dangerous, Chat. Please – please think this over.”

“You want me to stop seeing her?”

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to.

Adrien could hardly sleep. The moment still lingers in his mind. He didn’t have enough time to commit her taste to memory. He wonders if it would have been different if no lipstick had coated her lips, and just as he does so, someone slams their hands on his desk, making him bolt upright at once.

“Adrien,” Chloé says, cheeks red underneath her rouge.

Their classes are just about to start. People around them glance at them, and it’s glaringly obvious how Nino tries to gauge their reactions while pretending to talk to Alya. Adrien freezes, unable to move a single muscle as he stares at Chloé’s face. At her pink lips.

God damn it.

“I wanted to …” She groans, rolling her eyes. “I just …” She lets her nails meet the desk, one after the other. “It’s …” She clears her throat a few times. “Sorry.”

“Okay,” he peeps, sinking back into his seat and trying his best not to stare.

“For. Um. For, well, you know. What you said. Greeting, and stuff.”

“Y-yeah. Thank you.”

“You don’t hate me, right?”

His eyes snap back to hers. She is decidedly staring at her hands, though. The urge to grasp her chin, to make her look at him becomes overwhelming. He backs further away, holding his hands under control. “Of course not. You’re way too important to me, Chloé.”

She slowly looks up to him. Big blue eyes. He swallows down a lump in his throat. “I am?”

“You are,” he mumbles, unable to look away from her.

For a moment, a genuine smile builds on her lips. Then she swiftly straightens her back and tosses her hair over her shoulder, her eyes gliding over the whole class. “You heard that? I’m important to Adrikins! So you better stop being such annoying idiots, or he’ll come after every single one of you!”

Adrien stares at her. “Chloé, that’s not –”

“Yes, you heard that right, Alix. Stop staring at me like some blockhead!”

“Jeez,” Alix returns. “So glad the princess got a knight in shining armor.”

Adrien wants to jump in, but before he can, Nino bursts out laughing next to him, shoving his phone in Adrien’s direction. He glances at the screen. It’s the same meme from yesterday, only with another caption. “Adrien: validates Chloé’s behavior. Chloé: becomes even more clingy. Adrien:”

He rolls his eyes. “Really now?”

“Sunshine, seriously.” Snickering, Alya leans forward. “If I didn’t know better, it’s getting really suspicious how you’re trying to make Chloé feel good about herself. Girl has enough validation as it is!”

“You’d be surprised,” he mumbles.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He can’t even say why he feels relieved as Chloé sits down at her desk, her confidence seemingly having returned just like that as she crosses her legs, swirling a strand of her ponytail between her fingers. Because she is his friend. Because she is his friend who he kissed out of a weird reflex. Because she is his friend, whose lips were soft and warm and left him shivering. Because –

Oh god, why the hell did he kiss her?

“Why did I kiss her?” he whines, staring up at his ceiling.

Plagg sighs yet again. “Kiddo. Calm the heck down. Nothing happened, really.”

“Something did all right! I kissed my childhood friend!”

“Yeah, how utterly surprising.”

Adrien sits up, giving his kwami a glare. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Smelled it from a mile, kiddo. Like some perfectly ripe camembert.” Giving a dreamy sound, Plagg floats around his own piece of art. And he’s right – Adrien can even smell it from where he is sitting. He rolls his eyes again.

“I’m not in love with her, though.”

“Ah, yeah. What are you then? In kissage with her?”

“Oh my god,” Adrien groans. “No! I – I don’t know!”

“Well, buddy. Maybe whatever you are feeling is not be that same sacrificing, endless love you feel for your lady.” Plagg rolls his eyes. “Maybe you’re growing up. Ah, and it always happens so fast.”

Adrien narrows his eyes. “What?”

“I know, I know, not my place to say anything. But, y’know, you smooched your childhood honey despite knowing how many flaws she has, didn’t ya?”

The words leave Adrien in weird silence for some seconds. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

“Oh man,” Plagg groans, breaking off a piece of his camembert. “Yeah, forget it.”

“I – I love Ladybug despite her flaws, too.”

“Uh-huh. Which flaws?”

Adrien is starting to sweat. “She can be bossy.”

“As if you don’t like that.”

“I … I don’t?”

“Sounding very convincing right there, buddy.” He swallows another piece of camembert. “Then, what kind of flaws does your fencing partner have? Despite not being Ladybug, of course.”

“She …” Adrien clears his throat. “She can be bossy?”

“Right,” Plagg drawls. “So, how perfect is your childhood honey?”

“Not perfect at all?” Adrien furrows his brows. “She constantly pushes people away. She doesn’t listen to them. She can’t own up to her own mistakes without needing several pushes. She’s insecure, and hides it behind mean comments, and –”

“And you willingly kissed her, Romeo.”

Adrien shuts up in an instant. With a groan, he falls back into his bed. “It’s just … She was … I forgot what it is like to be close to her.”

“Cute.”

“Stop that.” He lays his hands over his face. “Ladybug was right, though.”

“About?”

“I can’t keep seeing Chloé as Chat Noir. Right? I can’t.”

A drawn-out hum. “You can see her as Adrien, though.”

He can. He really can. Just why does that sound almost impossible? Just why does he falter when he isn’t hiding behind his mask? Just why is it easier to be close to her when there is no history between them? Adrien takes a deep breath.

“Do you think … I mean, isn’t it … I still love Ladybug.”

Plagg chews loudly. “So? Thing about human hearts, they’re complicated. And huge. Can store a lot of people in there, you know.”

“That was oddly cute.”

“Just me, being the wise kwami that I just am.”

“Right.” Adrien has to grin. He glances at Plagg. “I’m not using Chloé as a rebound, am I?”

“Are you using Kagami as a rebound?”

“I …” It’s different. Being with Kagami is like being with Ladybug – doing his best to be enough, admiring so many tiny things about her. Being with Chloé is easy. Because he knows her, and he knows most secrets hiding underneath her pretty mask. He doesn’t admire her, not like he admires Ladybug. He doesn’t need her to see him. He only needs her to see herself.

Just how is he supposed to put this into words?

“I don’t think so,” he mumbles as an answer.

“Well, then, kiddo. Got all the time in the world to figure that out for yourself.”

He hopes for once his kwami is right.

Ladybug isn’t at their usual meeting spot. She is nowhere to be found, for that matter. So of course he lands on a certain balcony instead. So of course his heart jumps to his throat when he sees blonde, curly hair swaying in the wind. For a moment, he is speechless, thinking about her lips, thinking about what he feels for her, what he doesn’t feel, and it needs endlessly long to get the words out of his mouth.

“Good evening, my queen.”

She turns around. Leans her back against the railing. Moonlight on her bare cheeks. Pale lashes. Bright eyes that capture his. “You again.”

“What a way to greet your favorite kitten.”

“As if.” She crosses her arms. A rosy shimmer sits on her cheeks as she shuffles her feet. “You never finished my makeup, you know.”

He knows. He feels his cat ears twitch. “Are you asking me to finish the job, honeybun?”

“Gosh, you’re so annoying.” With a huff, she rolls her eyes, not giving him another glance as she goes back to her room. When he doesn’t follow immediately, she shoots a glance over her shoulder. “Are you coming or what?”

He can’t stop a grin from forming on his face, and on light feet, he enters her room. When she sits down at her vanity table, her voice gets just a tad softer.

“Just don’t jump me like you did last time.”

He looks at her. Comes closer. His stomach is churning in sudden nervousness. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? Daring to talk to me?”

He almost snorts. “Kissing you. I should have asked. I should have –”

“Seriously,” she interrupts him, waving him closer. Waiting until he pulls one of her stools towards him and sits down on it. “I lied. It wasn’t half bad.”

She doesn’t meet his eyes. His brows shoot up. “So honest today.”

“Well.” Clearing her throat, she closes her eyes. Gesticulates to the equipment next to her. Just like last time, he automatically reaches for her concealer. “You know how Ladybug and I are literal besties?”

“Yeah,” he drawls. “You sure are.”

“And as such, she …” Chloé releases a quivering breath. “She visited me today.”

That does keep him quiet for a second. He keeps carefully blending her concealer with a cotton swab. Then he reaches for her mascara. He knows the brands, and he chooses one he saw his own makeup artists use often enough. “Open your eyes,” he tells her, and bright blue latches onto him, drenched in an emotion he can’t name. “Look up.”

She does, her chest moving in another deep breath. Softly, he grasps her chin, bringing her into a better position. Just a few centimeters, and he could have kissed her again. His eyes are drawn to the beauty mark just above her upper lip. Still, he unscrews the mascara, carefully gliding the brush over her lashes.

“What did you two talk about?” he asks, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

“Oh, you know. Bestie stuff.”

“Sure. Your favorite brand of shampoo?”

“For example.” She swallows soundly. “About you.”

He moves to her other eye. “Huh.”

“Yeah. Huh.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“What did she say?”

“Who says I have to tell you?”

“Why did you tell me about it in the first place, then?”

“You’re so stupid, really.”

He rolls his eyes, screwing the cap on again. Chloé looks at him, lips pressed to a thin line, brows furrowing. 

“Did she tell you my makeup skills are impressive?” he quips, trying to get that frown from her face.

“No. In fact, she also thinks you’re gonna make me look like a clown. Yeah, no wonder there. I hope you never used her as a guinea pig. Then again, she really could use some red lipstick. Or is that too cliché? I could become her sidekick instead of you and do her makeup before every fight! Make her look perfect for the camera. Would be so much better, don’t you think? Who even needs Chat Stupid as their partner? No offense. No, well, all the offense, seeing as –”

“I’ll put on the lipstick. Could you keep quiet for a second?”

She shuts up. The frown is still in place. Her rambling is even making him nervous, and he chooses a darker shade of pink than he ever saw Chloé use. She draws an eyebrow up at the choice, but doesn’t comment on it.

Carefully, he starts out with lipliner. A hand on her chin holds her in place as he draws lines over her skin. The shape of her lips. He analyses it, left from right. Notices her shivering when he catches some excessive lipliner from the corner of her mouth with his thumb. The reaction has him pause for a moment. He doesn’t dare look at her eyes.

“She talked to me too, you know,” he says.

Her mouth is starting to move, but he stops her with a quick sound.

“Still gotta apply that lipstick, don’t I?”

She sighs in annoyance. He concentrates on nothing but her lips as he starts smudging the color over them. With his other hand, he guides her face, making sure to apply the color to the corners of her mouth.

“She isn’t too happy about me visiting you.”

Taking one of her lipstick brushes, her starts filling in the wrinkles he couldn’t catch with the stick alone.

“She says it’s endangering you.”

Content with his work, he closes the lipstick’s lid and stands up, turning Chloé in her chair until she is looking at her vanity’s mirror. Hardly any makeup on her face. She looks beautiful, with her hair flowing over her shoulders, with her cheeks carrying a natural reddish shimmer, with her bright eyes adorned by nothing but long lashes.

“She is right,” he whispers.

Chloé keeps looking at her reflection. “You’re going to leave me.”

She sounds so defeated, so tired that Chat feels a tremor go through him. Carefully, he places his chin on her shoulder, looking at her through the mirror. “You know what I’d like to do? I’d like to see this beautiful face during the day. I’d like to do more with you than hang around on your balcony and eat cookies like two sad balloons. I want to meet your mother and tell her what a fantastic girl you can be. I want to see you grow into the best version of yourself.” He smiles sadly. “As Chat Noir, I can’t do that.”

Her lower lip trembles. Her voice sounds more collected than she looks. “Ladybug told me it’s a bad idea to … With a superhero, you know.”

He knows.

“It’s just …” She wants to move away, and before she can, he grasps her chin and forces her to look at him.

“You’re strong, Chloé. You know you are. You don’t need me to prove that.”

“I like you,” she whispers.

He stares at her. Feels his whole face turn hot. And with no makeup hiding her reactions, he watches as her confession colors her own face red. He quickly lets go of her, averting his gaze as he searches for something to stare at.

“Oh, now don’t –” She hits his shoulder. “Don’t act like I told you you’re going to die tomorrow, Chat Dumb!”

Before he can even reply, she jumps to her feet, starting to pace through her room.

“See! That’s exactly why people are stupid! Because first, you get attached to them, and then they leave you just like that. As if anyone would be different! Just buzz off, Chat Yuck. I don’t want to look at your stupid face anymore.”

“Chloé –”

“I’m trying my hardest, okay?” She turns back to him, arms crossed so tightly that they press against her body. “I’m trying to be better. I’m trying to apologize to people. I’m trying to be my own person. It’s just – who the hell am I, even?”

He keeps looking at her. “You’re Chloé.”

“Well, duh, Chat Shrink!” she yells so loudly he winces. “You’re telling me I’m so strong and fierce and whatnot, and then you leave me like some idiot. As if you don’t care after all, huh?”

The realization crept up on him from afar, but it’s only now it really takes form in his mind. Because Chloé doesn’t need someone to kiss all her doubts away. What she needs more than anything is a friend. Someone she never has to doubt. Someone who is at her side with no obligations.

She deserves such a someone, after all.

“I’m not leaving you,” he replies. “Believe me, Chloé. I’m not.” He stands up, coming closer to her. Holding up his pinkie. “I promise I’ll always be there if you need me. Okay?”

“You’re such a loudmouth,” she returns, but her voice has lost all its scorn. “What, I just need to whisper your name three times and you’ll magically turn up?”

His smile is soft and sad. “Maybe you won’t always notice, but I will be by your side. Whenever you need me.”

She glares at him. Red cheeks, her lips the color of shimmering cherries, and with a huff, she hooks her finger in. “Deal.”

“Seal it with a kiss?”

“Get lost, mangy cat.” Even though she blushes at his words, and even though the urge to pull her close and kiss the sadness from her eyes is almost too much. But then their fingers unhook, and their hands drop down, and there they are, silence between them.

“Guess this is goodbye,” he says.

“Thank god. You were getting on my nerves.”

“Yeah. Estimated that much.”

“Such a nuisance. God.”

“Thank you. Can only return that compliment.”

She kicks his leg. “Your makeup sucks, by the way. It’s utterly ridiculous.”

“Oh, no, no. Don’t gotta lie to me like that, honeybun. You and I both know you look pretty as hell.”

She rolls her eyes. “Ugh. Shut up, Chat Yuck. Stop complimenting me, or I’m going to have to throw up _again_.”

He laughs.

Chat allows himself some time. To just talk. To remind her that there is more to her than her mother’s voice and her own reflection in her mirror. Telling her that there are people who could help her, if she just let them. She turns up her nose, hits his shoulder, looks away, but she never disagrees.

It’s midnight when his baton gives a beep, and it’s a reminder that makes him sigh. Chloé looks at him, both of them laying on her soft bed, legs dangling off its edge.

“You’ll leave,” she notices.

“I’ll have to.”

She keeps quiet for a second. Then she gets up and stretches a bit. “Whatever. Not like I don’t have better things to do.”

“Sure you do.”

“Of course. Or you think nothing beats hanging out with you, Chat Dumb?”

He smiles at her. She doesn’t smile back. Her eyes are watery, and she looks away from him. When he approaches her, she keeps standing where she is. Carefully, he leans closer to her, closer, until he can brush his lips against her cheek.

“Remember our promise, Chloé. I’ll always be there for you.”

Her arms are crossed, and she is still turning away from him, and he brushes a strand of hair behind her ear before he whirls around and leaves into the night.

It’s not a surprise to him to see Ladybug on a nearby rooftop, the red suit standing out among shadows. It takes no more than two leaps to be by her side. Her eyes dart over his face before turning to the far-away horizon.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“Well. You weren’t wrong, after all.”

“Even though it still baffles me. Chloé? Really, Chloé?”

He shows her a little grin. “Jealous, my lady?”

“Of Chloé?” She whips her head back around to him. “You have to be kidding me.”

“Looking a bit jealous to me, though.”

“Ha, very funny. My boyfriend wouldn’t be half as amused.”

“Well, then your boyfriend isn’t as _paw_ some as I am. But we both know that anyway.”

“At least his puns are funny.”

“Ouch.”

“Truth hurts, huh?”

It does.

“Dude, you what?”

“Yeah, you heard right.” Pressing his phone against his ear, Adrien looks out of the window. A bright and sunny day. “Sorry.”

“Hey, no problem at all, but – you sure about that?”

“Very sure.”

“Y’know, Alya and I could save you anytime. Just say the word and we’ll fly to wherever you are.”

Adrien laughs. “Chloé is not that bad.”

“But Chloé –”

A loud bang on the other end of the line. Adrien winces, but before he can stare at his phone in confusion, another voice joins them.

“What the actual – did you just say _Chloé_?” Alya’s shrill voice sounds. “Will you two go on a – no, please don’t tell me this is a date!”

Adrien sighs. Next to him, Plagg snickers as he rolls over the floor, eyes narrowed in amusement. “No. It’s not a date, no worries.”

“I don’t get it! So many girls to choose from, and you’d pick Chloé?”

“It’s not a date, Alya.”

“Yeah, sure it isn’t! Because she’s just a friend, huh?”

He pauses for a second. “Yes, she is?”

“For god’s –” Another few seconds of clattering before Nino is the one to reply again.

“Dude. Totally on your side. Do whatever you feel like. And if it’s a date with Chloé …”

“Not a date,” he repeats slowly.

“Sure thing. Have fun, bro.”

The call ends shortly afterwards, and while Plagg is still rolling over the floor, cackling wildly, Adrien rolls his eyes. “Do you have to laugh about it?”

“Absolutely! This is just too good.”

Whatever.

It’s not hard to convince Nathalie of letting him meet Chloé, that one friend his father approved of years ago, and sudden nervousness makes him a bit giddy during the drive. Still, it doesn’t need long until they arrive at the meeting spot, and the Gorilla nods at him as Adrien exits the car.

It doesn’t take him long to find her, even though he doesn’t recognize her at first glance. Because sunlight weaves through her blonde curls, and her cheeks seem a bit rosier when not drenched in moonlight, and she wears the exact same shade of lipstick Chat Noir chose for her.

It makes his heart jump.

“Hey!” he calls, approaching her. A small, inconspicuous park in the middle of Paris, one not many people would stroll through without reason. Chloé startles at the sound of his voice, bright blue eyes turning wider as she watches him approach.

“Adrikins!” She clears her throat, her hands clasped as she shuffles her feet. “I mean, Adrien. Did I do this stupid thing right?”

“You mean, greeting?”

“Yes, yes, greeting.” She rolls her eyes. “Because I respect your boundaries and all that jazz.”

“Not quite right.” He puts his hands on her shoulders, giving her a kiss right, a kiss left. She still smells too strongly of perfume, but the scent of pure Chloé accompanies it. “There. See? Easy enough.”

She is blushing while rolling her eyes again. “Whatever.”

“I like your makeup.”

At that, her face turns fully red in a matter of seconds. “I. Well. A friend of mine – it’s utterly atrocious, isn’t it? He did my makeup. I so don’t like it. In fact, he has no skill whatsoever. This shade of pink so doesn’t fit me! Ugh, this is so dumb.”

“Hey, I mean it.” He steps up to her as she starts stomping away. “It fits you.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not.” In a reflex, he wraps an arm around her shoulders to calm her down, showing her a tiny smile. She doesn’t look at him. “Remember when you forced me to do your puppet’s makeup?”

“You were so bad at it it’s not even funny.”

“Exactly. And you used to throw your whole glitter pallet at me because I messed up its whole face.”

“Yeah, well, as a designer’s son, you should at least have _some_ taste, right?”

Her unbashful words make him laugh, and he rubs her shoulder. Slowly, the tension falls from her body. “I do have some taste now. And I tastefully decide that this shade of pink does fit you.”

“Thank you, I guess.”

“You’re welcome, I guess.”

She stays silent, leaning just a bit into his touch. And it’s just one step of so many more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are! I felt like this is a good place to end this fic.
> 
> I might continue this story one day. Maybe not. There's a lot of potential, though. Maybe even for Adrien/Chloé/Marinette. (Expect that pairing from me sometime in the future. I have one or two things in the works.)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you for all your feedback - I appreciate it!


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